


In Sickness and in Health

by Phinmeister



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depressing, Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 77,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6707476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phinmeister/pseuds/Phinmeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet in the lives of two men who go through a heck of a lot in the first year of their marriage. Written for Camp Nanowrimo in April 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys - as a celebration for the day Adam and Rick technically get married (April 30, 2016), I've decided to post the novel I wrote last year on that day (or at least the first chapter). I wrote it in a time of my life where I was struggling a lot mentally and emotionally, and that's reflected a lot in this, because I wrote this as a way to channel what I was feeling into something that, well, made me feel a bit less alone. It's in no way a masterpiece, but I'm pretty proud of it, and who knows, maybe someday I'll publish it for real...

\- 2017 -

"I had a good dream last night."

Next to him, a slight shift. Groggy, eyelids half opened, lips shut together in an ever-perfect line of pensive tiredness - but still unquestionably conscious. He smiled, the expression barely visible. He knew it was there, though.

"Yeah?" He sounded pleased, almost, his voice a degree higher than one of boredom. Interested - he always was when it came to him, even in the most mundane things.

"Yeah." Should he tell him the contents of the dream? He should. He would enjoy it; he always seemed to, even if it was mundane. Dreams, of all things.

"It was about you, actually." All his good dreams were about him; this came as a surprise to neither of them. "And me. Nothing too weird."

"What did we do?" He really was interested. Of course.

He looked at him for a split second and then upwards at nothing in particular, mainly the ceiling and the headboard, looking as if it could fall apart at any given moment. Cheap bed.      

"We were out -" He squinted his still-blurry eyes, attempting to remember the precise details. "In the sun. It was sunny. It felt all warm, I remember, and you were all smiling 'cause it felt good. I was just watching you..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah?" He was gazing directly at him, seeming more alert than he should have been, having just awakened a moment ago. There was a glint in his eye, one that could have been of humor but was probably of admiration. That interest, again, almost illuminating him.

"I don't know. You looked pretty."

He snorted. "Pretty?"

"Well, yeah. You're always pretty."

"Ha." He sat up as well, lightly punched him on the arm, and yawned. "So... the key to a good dream is me looking pretty. Who would have guessed?"

"I don't think that was what made it good." He pulled the blanket - a soft periwinkle one they had owned and slept under since the dawn of time - up to his chin. "Anyway, I'm going back to sleep."

"It's -" He swiveled over to check the digital clock resting in dilapidation on their nightstand. "9:05. Wake up."

"I am up."

"Not _up,_ though." He stretched, yawned again, and shifted over to get off the bed. A few rays of sunlight were peeking through the window, and they landed on his face. He squinted. Looked beautiful even then. "We still need to buy better curtains." With that he got off the bed and walked over to their closet, his footsteps producing the smallest squeak against the floor.

"You can buy better curtains." A murmur, one that even he couldn't hear. "And I'll go back to sleep."

"You do that."

How could he hear him? Magic, he was. Everything about him was magic.

-

It had been a good dream, though. The mark of a good dream was that, upon arising, he could not articulate with total accuracy what exactly had made it so good. Was it the apparent warm sunshine, as he had said? Was it the happiness of both of them - both - that had carried over into the real world? Was it something he was forgetting?

Probably. He sat up, his hair a mess of brown tangles and his eyes still clouded from sleep. He rubbed them, remembering as he did that one time as a child when he had been instructed not to do exactly that.

_That's how you carry germs... and you wonder why you're always a sick little thing. You don't take enough care of your hygiene._

He supposed he didn't. He hadn't then, and he didn't now, and he doubted sincerely that his habits would be changed any time soon.

Clothes, clothes. He didn't really have to get dressed - after all, neither of them especially cared, and the clothes would come off eventually anyway - but he was a bit cold, and in any case, he wasn't feeling up to hanging around naked today. He noted when he walked in the closet that everything was in order (as usual, why was he even noticing that?), nothing strewn to the ground or stuffed in a drawer.

When he made his way into the kitchen he found that it was empty. He gave a low sigh and wondered exactly where he had left that week-old loaf of bread.

     -

Day in, day out, everything was the same. Life seemed to pass by in a streak, a moment gone before he could appreciate it, events for which he had waited months saying goodbye as soon as he greeted them. Maybe he was just getting old. That was probably it.

He would be twenty-seven in the summer. Not that old - not old at all, actually - but, for some reason, he felt  a great deal older than that. Twenty-seven almost seemed like a gift, one he really didn't want or deserve but would accept with an obviously forced grin anyway. Twenty-seven was an outfit that didn't fit him, a doubtful, half-hearted promise. He wasn't sure what age _did_ suit him, though. It wasn't that he necessarily felt more or less mature than that; no, that wasn't it. Truthfully, he didn't feel any age at all. He was floating about the timeline of age, watching others on their respective treks but not really engaging in the process. And at the same time, he felt as if he had been jolted along in his journey and shoved forward by someone who undoubtedly hated his guts.

It was a bizarre feeling. What it boiled down to, though, was that he didn’t want to be twenty-seven.

     -

"Maybe we'll go on vacation soon."

Ha. Like that would happen. He couldn't handle any sort of relaxation; that was another thing that he simply didn't deserve. 

He didn't say that.

"That would be nice." Nice, yeah. Nice for himself, maybe, if he could pull himself together for a week or so and not dwell in his mind. Nice if there were such things as miracles.

"Maybe for our anniversary."

Oh, yeah. They would have to do something for that. Maybe that's what he was telling him: that _you forgot all about our anniversary, you jerk, and maybe if you weren't so annoying and full of yourself you would consider our relationship for once._

Anyway, it was one year. Special occasion. They made it through a whole year with each other.

"Yeah, we'll have to do something for that."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, did you have anything in mind?" He said 'I don't know' far too often. Maybe for their anniversary the best present would be for him to be quiet and leave.

"No, not really." Shifted again; what was really on his mind? Probably that this conversation was going nowhere.

"Oh." Good talk.

He coughed. Too much dust in the air, probably. He really had never been one for hygiene.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he sputtered out; he wasn't okay. Just needed some water, though. He got up, and he could feel himself being watched.

Silence: one, two, three, four seconds, the maximum time for a silence to not be awkward. Then:

"Have - have you talked to Marissa lately?"

He stopped, and after a second, took a breath and shook his head.

"No?"

"Not - not in a while." His hands were shaking, why were they shaking? Stupid hands. They never stopped. He hadn’t noticed the tremors until now, but they had probably been there all along.

"Do you think you should?"

_Shaking, shaking, shaking, shake, rattle, and roll._ What a stupid question. Did he think he should? Absolutely. Did he want to? Did he feel motivated enough to do so? That was a different story.

"I don't know." There it was again.

Another couple seconds of silence. Nothing. "Were you getting something?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Mumbled. He was going to get water. The ridiculous dust everywhere.

"You know, Marissa cares about you."

"Does she?" He said that out loud, even though he hadn't meant to.

"Yeah. She told me so."

"When?" He hadn't heard anything about him seeing Marissa - or maybe he had, and he had forgotten it.

"Wednesday before last, remember? I went to see her."

"Oh." No, he didn't remember that. Why not?

     -

He wasn't sure why he hadn't been seeing Marissa lately. It wasn't as if she were a heartless creature - far from it, really. Maybe _he_ was the heartless creature. Maybe he needed to shut up.

Noon came and went, and not much had happened. He had been bugged about seeing her (“yes, I will, okay”), drunk his water (thankfully, it did help his throat), eaten his toast (wasn't much to speak of), and had received a quick kiss on the nose (“I love you, alright?”). Other than that, the sunlight had moved, and he didn't feel quite so groggy anymore.

He was alone again. It was Wednesday; he was always alone on that day. Wednesday, from 10:30 to 2:00, alone. He was beginning to get tired of it.

He was terrible. When was he ever going to do anything with his life? When would he get up and actually do something productive? When would he stop allowing the days to go by and actually put those precious seconds to good use? When would he make the change he wanted? Those were questions he didn't care enough to answer.

That good dream he had had didn't seem to have made much of an impact on his day. Maybe he was ignoring it too much; it might be beneficial to reflect on it a bit. It had been warm, he remembered. Warm and sunny, not just in his surroundings. Nice. In some place he definitely did not currently live. It hadn't felt like a physical place, though; oddly enough, whatever his mind had created had made sure the happy feeling existed only among the both of them. In their minds and within themselves, and it hadn’t needed to be tangible at all.

His memory was hazy. Damn it. It used to be more clear, until the last couple years. He used to have the best memory of all the people he knew...

Used to. Not anymore, though. Every little thing had changed, and there wasn't a thing he could do to make it better.

-

There _was_ something, though. Marissa. That giver of health and love, of truth and beauty, Marissa. Wasn't she just the _greatest?_ Or so he was constantly told. (Not constantly. Once in a while. He needed to stop being such a _baby._ )

"So, did you talk with her yet?"

What? "No." He said that in a sleeker manner than he would have liked. He could never hide any sort of feeling. "No, not yet."

He disapproved, to say the least, and he had reason to. The number of times he had told him to call her... to talk with her... heck, to at least pretend she existed...

"Will you?" Insistent, and almost worried, he imagined.

He might. Eventually. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he would. When he had reached the end of his rope and had no other avenues to walk down, then he might consider picking up the phone and dialing her number. He didn't want to, but he had to.

Once he had left, he sighed. He could never win, really, although the game he was forcing himself to play had no winners.

     -

"Good night."

"Good night." Another day gone by, pretty much wasted. It was dark again; the sun had long since said farewell, and the curtains were not to bother them for several hours.

"Sweet dreams." He certainly looked happy, and for what reason he had no clue. Maybe just his general existence and close proximity to him; that seemed to please him enough every day. "I hope you have many of them. Just like the one last night. Maybe you'll have one again."

That was doubtful. Good dreams were rare nowadays, and they had been for quite a while, and the one he had had the night before was so good that it was practically an anomaly.

"Here, I'll give you a good dream." He leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Wet, but that wasn't an issue. Warm. "There's one." And on the cheek. "And another, for luck."

Luck was definitely something he needed - a lot of it, too. A whole, whole lot of luck.

"There. No more nightmares. Ever. Or at least, definitely not tonight."

"Ha." That was quiet, barely under his breath, and he was hoping he hadn't heard it; he had.

"What's that?" For some reason, now there was a smirk on his face. "You don't believe me? Well, I'll have you know that my kisses are one hundred percent pure magic."

He found himself smiling. "Are they?"

"Oh yeah. They're completely effective at blocking bad dreams. They're so magical that I bet you're gonna have the best dream of your life." He rested his head on his pillow, smiling. "And you can tell me all about it when you wake up."

He almost wished they were magic, just so he could tell him the next morning how it had worked and that he really was amazing beyond belief. Come to think of it, that wasn't far off from reality; he really was amazing.

"I'll tell you.”

"Good. I can't wait to hear it." He looked at him, and he looked back, and for some reason, he felt calmer because of it. Stiller. More at peace. "You gonna be okay?"

He might. Hopefully. He nodded, exhaled a “Yeah.”

"All right. I love you."

"I love you too." So much, so freaking much he wanted to die. He should tell him that more often.

"Good night."

"Good night." He hoped it would be.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attack

He woke up in a cold sweat. Again. His heart was racing, pounding, sucking all the life out of him, beating at a rate that seemed unhealthy - but it wasn't, as much as he couldn't believe. It hadn't killed him before, and it wouldn't kill him now, but it sure felt like it would.

It was 2:54 AM, not exactly the ideal time to be awake. Pitch black, inside and out. There wasn't even the smallest ray of moonlight shining through the window; it was darker than dark, and he could barely see anything around him. He swallowed. Tried to breathe, but found that to be a challenge. Shut his eyes again.

Nope, the kisses weren't magic after all.

His heart was still beating beyond belief, and he wished he could do anything to make it stop all together. That would be too much work, though. Another deep breath. He should be used to this; it happened to him practically every night, after all. Why wasn't he used to this? Didn't he have at least one coping strategy? Besides just _breathing?_

Marissa had told him to do that - in the smallest corner in the back of his mind, he remembered. Maybe he should go and see her more often. In fact, that was probably the best thing he could do for himself.  She would help, definitely help (no matter how many times he liked to deny it to himself) and he would benefit, and maybe this sort of thing would happen less often, if at all. So why didn't he go see her?

Too late now.

He opened his eyes again, which was pretty much a useless thing to do. He couldn't even make out the ceiling - something he tended to stare at a lot when this sort of thing happened. He wasn't sure why. Maybe the blankness helped; it was a definite contrast to what was going on in his mind.

He tried to recall exactly what it was that had awakened him so abruptly. A nightmare, of course; it was always some sort of nightmare. When did he not have nightmares? (Besides the night before. Stupid question.) Maybe he should take something for it. Maybe he should talk to Marissa once in a while. Maybe he should get a lobotomy.

He didn't think there was anything in particular in his dream that had made it a nightmare. Not like that nice, good dream, which had actual subjects in it - this was empty. Emptiness, that was his real foe.

Empty nothingness, that was it. A lack of things, that's what had made it terrifying. A lack of happiness of any sort, a lack of comfort and security, a lack of hope. Was there any hope in his regular life? Not especially.

He was shaking again. Shaking, horrible shaking, never-ending constant shaking, that's all he ever did. Palms bathed in sweat, blood coursing through his veins at a million miles an hour, breathing short and shallow, cold. He was cold.

He pulled the blanket over him again. That was a bit better. He curled up in a ball, shut his eyes, breathed, opened them again. A back - a moving figure. Sleeping soundly, as it were.

Should he tell him?

He always told him, and he had to be getting sick of it. Every night, or every other night, shaken awake from peaceful slumber, or his name called out, or otherwise awakened by crying - his stupid crying. That was the worst one. Every other night. Maybe sometime soon he would consider giving him a full night's sleep.

Maybe he was selfish. He was awake at an ungodly hour, and he couldn't cope with himself for the umpteenth time, so he wanted someone to be awake with him because he was just that lonely. That was it. He was just another selfish jerk.

A selfish jerk in pain, though. And he had to admit, he was feeling a bit lonely.

He cleared his throat as softly as he could. His mouth was dry.

"Adam?"

No response. Maybe this was a cue for him to leave him alone and go back to sleep. He missed his only shot, and to try again would just be confirming that he was selfish, and -

"Adam?"

This time he woke up. Soft stirring, turning over, blinking in exhaustion and confusion.

"Yeah, babe?" Quiet, but loud enough.

He loved him so much. Did he tell him that the night before? Or did he just think it?

He swallowed, although it wasn't very helpful. "Your kisses didn't work."

A frown, and furrowed eyebrows. "They didn't?" Quiet. You can never be loud at three in the morning.

Shaky breath: the only way he could breathe. "N - no."

"Aw." All he needed to say. He reached out and pulled him closer. Held him. He was warm, just as he always was - warm, comforting, the antidote to any bad dream.

He curled up next to him. Pressed his face against his chest. Exhaled - shaky again. He had been in this position many, many times before. So warm. Not hot nor cold, but the perfect amount of comforting warmth. He wanted to stay in his embrace until the end of time.

"Maybe I didn't give you enough kisses." Murmur. Barely audible to anyone but him. No, Adam, that wasn't the reason.

"Maybe I don't deserve them." Ha. He hated himself.

"What? Yes you do. You're the number one recipient. Those kisses were crafted by me for you specifically." To prove some sort of point, he kissed the top of his head.

He wrapped an arm around him - hugged him, he guessed. Really, he just wanted more of that warmth.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He shifted down, just a bit, and kissed him on the lips. They were warm, too. He always showed the most affection late at night, and especially when this sort of thing happened. Maybe it was an extension of his care...huh.

"I'm scared," he murmured once they had broken apart.

"Of what?"

"Everything." It sure seemed like it. He could never find a direct cause for his panic, which perhaps caused him to worry the most.

"Even me?"

No. He swallowed again. "Never."

"That's good." He drew him closer again, and they both closed their eyes.

Adam hummed. "You feeling any better?"

Was he? He couldn't even tell. "I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, I'm better than I was a couple minutes ago..."

"That's all that matters."

Drowsy feelings again. Maybe it was the warmth.

-

He knew what the cause was. It was always the same thing.

-

Morning. Gross morning. The sun unabashedly shone through the curtains again. He had a headache.

_Well, I'm off to work._ Are you? _Yeah._ Stay home. _I can't, you know that._ Stay home anyway. _I wish I could, man._ Sure you can, just say you're sick. _I'm not sick._ But _I_ am.

Sigh.

_You're not sick._ Headache. _Aw._ You don't care. _I do care, I just have to leave soon._ I know, I know. I'm sorry. _It's okay, c'mere and give me a kiss._

He did so.

You didn't put enough feeling in that kiss. _Feeling?_   Uh huh. _You're just asking for trouble now._ Come back to beeeed. _No._ Aw. Bye, babe. _Bye._

He went back to sleep, and when he woke up he found that his condition had barely improved.

-

Medicine. Medication. What was the difference between the words? They both sucked. Both of them felt weird going down his throat, and both of them took pride in working to change his life for the better, but never actually followed through with that promise. Both of them he skipped once in a while - that being a euphemism for _far too often._

Water. Thank God for water. Best invention in the world, besides love.

Empty. Silence. His footsteps creaked in the hallway, were muffled by carpet, and went back to creaking once they met the hardwood floor again. Birds may have tweeted, somewhere outside. A clock might have ticked.

His ears were ringing. Sick. He really was sick. He needed more water, or maybe a good hard slap in the face. Something to get him out of this.

Nothing appeared. He was alone.

-

"Hello? Yeah, this is, uh, this is, uhhhh..."

Try again.

"Hi..." He coughed, and the cough turned into a fit. He set the phone down, collected himself, and picked it back up again.

Hands shaking again.

"Hi, this is Rick..."

Like she would remember who he was. _Hi, yeah, this is Rick. We haven't spoken in some weeks, in fact probably months, who knows, maybe over half a year. I can't even remember, aren't I a great client? But anyway..._

Skip the introduction. That might come naturally.

"And I'm calling you because my husband is making me..."

 Skip that.

"I'm calling because I... am still in need of therapy."

That might work. He could do that. It was simple, it was truthful.

"Maybe you remember who I am..."

Unlikely.

"Hi, this is Rick, is this Marissa? Yeah...I'm -"

Maybe he should write his words down before he spurted them out. There wasn't a pen and paper around, though...

"I'm calling because I used to talk with you a bit, and actually you talk with -"

And don't go all over the place.

"So, you know my husband..."

Oh, can it with the cheesy remarks. Yes, she knows him. You're unbearably awkward. Should he even mention him? It was probably good for context. Yeah. Good.

"Hi, Marissa? This is Rick. I'm calling because my husband Adam goes and talks with you every so often, and I used to have sessions with you..."

Maybe she would remember him. That would make things a whole lot easier. Plus, if she knew who Adam was... Of course she knew who he was. What an idiot. They're friends. Who knows? They might talk about him all the time. Introductions? Just get to the point.

His breathing was shallow again, he thought. Maybe it was normal and he was just freaking out over nothing. That would make a whole lot of sense.

"I'm calling because I want to restart therapy with you."

The dial tone was beginning to get on his nerves.

-

He read a book once that he had really enjoyed. It had been a long time - so long - he could barely remember the title, much less the author. It was all a mess of words in his brain now, all scrambled up like it didn't need to be in order (he would have preferred it if it was). Something...about...submarines. Submarines, and the dangers of the what came with them, and bravery in the face of natural adversity, and a good ending. Based on a true story.

He hadn't read it in a long time. Or had he? Everything was a mess. What was time anymore?

He was nearly a year married. He was almost twenty-seven years of age. That's all that he could remember.

He should find that book again. Maybe he still had it, somewhere, locked away in some room or hidden under a pile of equally unread books or tucked away on a dusty shelf. He should find it and read it again. He could - what was stopping him, other than the lack of motivation to even leave the room he was in? Well, that was it. That was what was stopping him.

Submarines. He used to be a fan of them, back when things weren't, well, like they were now. The whole idea of maritime, and the oceans, and what mysteries they held... Nice. He really did used to love them.

He wanted that passion back again.

-

Quick kiss on the lips. How was your day? _Oh, it was fine._ _Same old, same old. How was yours?_ Not the worst. _Not the worst?_ Well, not the best either, but it wasn't too bad. It was normal.

What was normal?

_Maybe we should go out for dinner tonight._ Nah, we did that last week. _So?_ Shouldn't that be something special? _You are special to me._ Aw, babe.

End up going out to get chicken sandwiches. _These places never improve, do they?_ Not really, but they never get worse. _True._

Go to bed not longer afterward. _Good night._ Good night. _I love you._

I love you so much.

I love you too. _Sweet dreams, maybe?_ Ha ha, yeah. _Shh._ Sleep tight. _All right. You too._

He wasn't a big fan of the 'maybe.'

-

He didn't call Marissa. He should have called Marissa, and he had practiced for it over and over until he could hardly feel his tongue, and he had had the intention in mind to call her - he had actually been motivated to go to the phone, which was a miracle in itself. But he hadn't called her. Why? He didn't know.

It was late again. He couldn't see the clock, but he was sure it was past the normal time to fall asleep. The ceiling was somewhat visible, but he didn't care enough to stare at it this time around.

Warmth. He wanted the warmth again. He shifted closer to Adam, closer and closer until their bodies were just barely touching. He broke the space between them, wrapped his arms around him and nestled his face into the back of his neck. Lovely.

Adam breathed. He could feel it. In and out, in and out, in the most regular, repetitive rhythm. The type of breathing he would like to have every second of his life. He could feel it in his back, in his chest, in every spot his own body could touch.

It was calming, in its own way.

Closed his eyes, finally. Breathed him in. Sighed. Adam didn't wake up, fortunately. Good. He didn't want to wake him up, although in this case neither of them would have minded.

Kissed the back of his neck, and just below. Nothing crazy, nothing sharp, just pressing his lips. Warm again.

Sleep would come.

-

Good morning, darling.  How are you? _Not bad._

Smile. Both of them.

_You're awfully cheery this morning._ Ha ha, am I? _Well, you're smiling._ Oh. So are you. _You're very astute._

Kiss.

I love you. _I love you._ I love you, love you, love you forever. _Mm._ Ha.

_I'll make coffee._ Aw, will you? That would be great. _It's my pleasure._

 

He could go back to sleep. It was still early. He didn't necessarily want to.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back in time...

If there was any part himself that, if he had to choose, he did truly admire, it was that he took some pretty damn good photographs. That was the one thing, the one hobby he really did enjoy; it kept him sane, reminded him that there was more to life than the wars going on inside him. It kept his focus straight, and it allowed him to reflect on the fact that beauty did, in fact, exist around him.

(Besides in his husband; he was the most beautiful creature of all.)

He had gone through a number of cameras in his life, switching from worse to better, from what had once been better to what was now a great deal. He didn't necessarily care about brands and such, as he wasn't looking to show off or boast about how he could afford a tool of the highest caliber. It was just a matter of getting something better. That was the only real motivation for self improvement in his life.

He kept all his old cameras, of course. Couldn't bear to get rid of them. Anyway, most of them still worked just fine, and there was no use throwing away something that wasn't garbage.

Photography. He loved it. It was mostly landscape photography that he did; in fact, he considered it an occasional job, if anyone were to ever stumble upon his pictures and buy one of them. That had happened a few times. Why landscape? There wasn't anything more beautiful, in his opinion.

(Besides his husband; he was the most beautiful creature of all.)

His camera now was gathering the least noticeable amount of dust. Somehow, he didn't mind that quite as much as he probably should. He hadn't gone anywhere recently that merited the taking of pictures, anyway.

\- 2015 -

His first real, _real_ job had been on a ship, surprisingly. Taking photographs, what else? It wasn't landscape, though; there wasn't much of a landscape to capture on film. He was taking a shot at being a photojournalist, or at least collecting memories and capturing events that may or may not prove to be influential in the shaping of the future.

(This particular assignment wasn't. Not really. In a broad sense, it contributed, did its part for the good of the nation; in a more realistic sense, it was one among many, many others that did the exact same thing.)

He wasn't forced to go there by anyone, which didn't make it much of a job. He wasn't even being paid (When was the last time he got paid for taking pictures? Was there ever a time?). It was barely even an assignment; someone, some unnamed person or perhaps group of people, had instructed him to go there, and so he did, and was he important? Did he further the cause? No. He was just _there._ Described his life perfectly.

He wasn't a stowaway or anything, far from it. They knew he was there, and they perfectly accepted that he wanted to snap pictures of everyone and everything. Why not? It wasn't unheard of. Plus, he was on his best behavior, and he was a charming young man of twenty-four. Wouldn't cause any harm; the thought of it wouldn't even cross his mind.

So he got a room on the sixth deck near the starboard side, far down a hallway, about the worst room one could possibly ask for. Small and cramped, with barely enough room for a standard twin bed and not even nearly enough room for a shower. He didn't mind that, either. He didn't deserve anything better, and that wasn't a matter of self esteem; he wasn't there to do anything of importance, and he didn't need to be rewarded. Anyway, what he was given was perfectly fine. The bed _was_ comfortable, and he didn’t need a large bathroom in any case, and he was alone, so what else mattered?

He was alone, yeah. He was always alone. It didn't seem apparent at the time, but it was the truth.

He had his camera, stocked up with batteries and film galore, lens cleaned and shining bright, not a chip or scratch to be found. If there was one thing in his life that he took care of, that was it. It was in pristine condition  when he bought it, and he planned for it to stay that way until it lived the extent of its short camera life. It was his pride and joy the only thing he really cared for.

He liked ships. Always had. Anything related to the sea was in his interests, although he didn't like to admit it to anyone too often. Somehow, as he grew older saying he liked the ocean seemed more and more contrived, like he was emotionally stunted and needed to grow up and accept that life sucked. _Oh, you like the ocean? Have you contributed anything to society within the last two months?_  He wasn't sure if he had, really. Perhaps this assignment (wasn't much of an assignment, he should stop calling it that) would give him a sense of purpose. Perhaps.

The ship itself wasn't too bad. Smaller than a lot of other ships, but not a miniature dingy by any measure. Five hundred people on board. Mostly men, he had heard. All there for various purposes - well, he said various. Technically various; generally for the same branch of work.

It should prove to be interesting, though. It wasn't like he was there to watch people sit around all day.

The first night was probably the best night to check things out and watch what was happening: everyone was hustling about, taking care of things and checking to make sure everything was in order, making friends or stuck in serious contemplation, living lives. The problem was, though, that he was also dead tired. That bed was so very comfortable, and the room got to be pretty dark, and the ship's movement made it oh so nice, like he was being rocked to sleep...

He woke up at what had to be past ten o’clock. He didn't need to have people around him to realize that it was quiet outside; everything seemed oddly still, as if in a daze. He got up. Brushed his teeth. Put on a jacket. Grabbed his camera. Walked out into the hallway.

He yawned as he wandered down the way, his footsteps not entirely muffled by the carpet underneath his shoes. Maybe he would grab a coffee. Watch people. Look out the window at the sea, tossing, turning, crashing against them, and hurdling past them with far more energy than he could ever have.

Elevators almost seemed too convenient for the situation. What were they doing? Cruising? Far from it. Ha. He wished they were. Life would be better.

_Ding._ He walked out into another hallway and pulled out his camera. It had a couple of fingerprints on the screen; he frowned. That wouldn't do, it wouldn't do at all.

He walked forward unconsciously, scrubbing lightly on the exterior of his camera, when he bumped into someone. Almost dropped the camera, but rushed to retrieve it before it hit the floor. His heart leapt, and he swallowed hard and stumbled backwards. He looked up.

Swallowed again. Raised his eyebrows. _Damn._

"Sorry, sorry, gosh, are you okay?" Perfectly fine.

Swallowed, all he could do was swallow. Stared. Supposed to say something. Tried to grin.

"Uh, ha ha, yeah. Yeah. You okay too?" Stupid.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Pointed to his camera. "That okay?"

Uhhhhhhh.

"Yeah, um -" Looked down. Still a smear. Easily fixable. "Fine. Yeah. Fine. Aah."

Squinted at him. Confused, probably; he wasn’t the only one. "You sure you're alright? You look a bit jumpy."

Well. "No, no, I'm okay, uh. I was just going to, uh, get coffee."

Very stupid.

"Are you sure you need it?" Joking tone of voice. Smile. Caring eyes. Damn it.

"You know, probably not." Kept staring at him. He had a white uniform, just like everyone else, but this one seemed to accentuate everything about him. Brown, glistening eyes. Brown hair too, a bit shaggy. Kind of a big nose, but not in a particularly unappealing way.

Gorgeous.

Pointed backwards offhandedly, at somewhere he didn’t care about - oh yeah, the dining hall. "I think they make hot chocolate, too. You want some?"

_With you? Anything._ Don't say that out loud.

"Uh. Yeah, sure. You're not doing anything?"

"Nah. I was going to turn in early, but..." Glanced behind him, probably at nothing. "I can stay out a bit longer."

Why? For him? For his ridiculous brainless self?

"Really? That's nice."

"Well." Trailed off. Looking at him, too, like he had been. Staring, he guessed, or maybe hoped.

Well?

\- 2017 -

"Why did you fall in love with me?"

Late night again. Who knows what time it was? Late. No nightmares this time, thank God. They were just awake. No real reason why.

Intake of breath. Surprised, probably by the abruptness of the question. He had an answer. "Like, first time we met?"

"Well, yeah." He knew. He shouldn't pretend not to.

A couple seconds of silence. Thinking.

"Well, you were cute, one. Physically, of course, but you were just cute in general. You kept stuttering."

"Ha. Did I?" He remembered. They had probably discussed this before.

"Like every word. 'Um, uhh, yeahhh, uhh...' You were great."

"Good conversationalist?"

"You bet. And I kind of felt sorry for you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You were in the sort of state where I should have felt sorry for you. Like I was obligated to. It was part of your cuteness. I guess you could blame it on instant attraction."

"Ha. That's us."

"Crazy. By all logic we should have broken up months ago."

"Or years!"

"Or years."

\- 2015 -

The hot chocolate was creamy, very rich in flavor, absolutely perfect. Amazing how other things, horrors and pain and everything in between, could happen and there still would be superb hot chocolate.

"So you're a photographer?"

Dumb question, but as good a conversation starter as any, he supposed. They were sitting across from each other at a small table. It was late, as he had expected, and the only people around them were the last stragglers and a handful of workers. Outside, the ocean appeared to speed past them, crashing with magnificence against the ship but deafened by their noise.

"Yep. Gonna watch people." An even dumber answer.

"Sounds fun." He had gotten a hot chocolate, too, and he appeared to be enjoying it. Took a sip from his mug, looking at him. It didn’t seem strange; in fact, none of their situation felt strange at all. Normal, far too normal.

"Well, it's not like a walk in a park. I guess I'm a kind of photojournalist."

His eyes widened. _Widened_ \- he was surprised, evidently, but what had to have been in a good way. He liked this guy already.

"Really? Interesting."

"Yeah. I feel guilty sometimes, though. Like I'm skimping out of the line of duty, or whatever."

Shook his head. There was a bit of excess hot chocolate on his mouth, and somehow it made him seem more appealing than ever. "No, not really. I think if everyone were doing the exact same thing, putting all their efforts into one specific area, the world would be pretty awful." Laughed. Didn't really find it humorous, obviously.

He agreed, though. And it was at that moment that he realized he didn't even know this guy's name.

"Adam." Smile. He had pretty white teeth. "What's yours?"

"Rick."

"Neat."

That was a new response. "Neat?"

"Yeah, neat. It's a cool name."

It wasn't too amazing. It was his dad's name, too. Good old Dad.

"Not _that_ cool."

"Good enough." Another sip. They gazed at each other.

He cleared his throat. "So, you're here for...?"

Another smile, this one far above genuine. "Just general maritime studies. I'm looking out for dolphins and stuff, making sure everyone's safe." Laughed again, just a chuckle.

He loved him. Holy shit.

"Really."

"Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, but that's how I am, I guess. I can't fight, that’s not me. The only reason I'm here is to protect animals. Dumb, but yeah. ...Man, this hot chocolate’s better than I thought."

He just looked at him. He looked back, not smiling anymore.

"What?"

Blinked. "Nothing." What should he say now? I also love dolphins? Yeah, this hot chocolate is the bomb? I think I want to make out with you?

He shrugged. Took yet another sip of his hot chocolate. What was it about him that was so alluring? All he was doing was -

Man, he was overthinking this. But then again, all he could do was think and think.

He gave him a smile, or as much of a real smile as he could. “It’s awesome. I think that’s real interesting, too.” Might as well say it. He would love it.

He did, evidently. Eyes widened again. “You serious?”

“Yeah. I’ve always been into that stuff. You do it for a living?”

“I - Yeah.” Something had got him. His eyes looked far off.

“That’s neat.” Neat. What a stupid word. This guy was into maritime, for Pete’s sake. He should say something else. “You know what this hot chocolate reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Like… the essence of society.” Best thing he could come up with. “It’s a mixture of stuff, right? Cheap crap with no nutrition. But it’s still dang good. And hot, like, in temperature. It could kill me if it got _too_ hot, but it’s just good enough so that I like it. Same with society, sort of. It’s a mixture of stuff, and not all of it’s good, and if it got too hot - like, I don’t know, if we had a super dystopia or something - that would be bad. But it’s just nice enough so that it’s pretty all right to live.” Not bad. Probably the stupidest thing that had ever been uttered by a human being, but it worked.

It was so ridiculous that he had to laugh. A lot. Closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands for a moment, just silently laughing. He must have looked ridiculous himself.

When he looked up, Adam was smirking at him, as if he found his laughter more humorous than the actual analogy he had made up.

“You get what I’m saying?”

“Did you think of that just now?”

“Yeah.”

Still smirking, didn’t say anything. Looking at him. It felt a tad awkward.

He hiccupped. Stopped smiling. Felt weird again, like he wasn’t sure that he had insides anymore. Looked back at him, and wow, he was as gorgeous as ever.

Oh, yeah. He was gorgeous. He had forgotten about that for a second, but now it came crashing down on him again, or more like sinking. He was sinking back into that state of _what,_ and _how._

Adam frowned; he must have noticed his change of mood. "You're sure you're all right?"

Was he? Yeah, he guessed so. "Maybe I am a bit jittery."

"You should go back to your room, maybe. Sleep a bit. I bet more stuff will happen tomorrow." Smiled. Quit with the smiling.

"Probably." What was that an answer to? He didn't even know.

Stood up. _No, don't leave._ "Well, all right, then. It was nice meeting you, Rick."

Ughhhhhhhh.

"Nice meeting you too." Smiled back. Looked at him. Didn't want to look away. When was the last time he looked away?

Nice indeed. What was he supposed to do now? Leave? Yeah.

Looked away. Turned back. Wanted to die. Walked away, away, stopped by a -

"Hey, actually, wait."

Turned back. Wanted to cry, maybe. What was going on?

"You're, um." He looked nervous. Made him even more attractive, somehow. Stared at him, half in confusion, half in... something else, he couldn’t tell.

"What?"

He had the strangest expression on his face. Like he had noticed something that shouldn't be there, but was.

"I'll walk with you." Obviously not what he was going to say before. Why was he inviting himself to walk with him? A complete stranger. Should he be more wary?

Screw wariness. Nodded. "I'm way in the back of deck six, it's a bit of a walk."

"Well, you look lonely."

"I do?"

"Kind of. Deck six it is."

\- 2017 -

"We rush everything."

"Yeah, but we're living proof that that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Yeah. But still. Would anything be different if we took things a different way?"

"Like, would we still be dating two years in? I would die of boredom."

"A lot of people do that. Probably most people."

"Who cares? They're not us."

"True."

Still dark out, of course. It was so quiet, other than them. He loved this time of night when he wasn't forced to be awake by his bothersome mind.

Reached out and rubbed Adam's arm. Just to touch him.

Adam hummed. "And what if we _were_ like other people? Would the rest of our lives be any better, really?"

He didn't have much of an answer for that. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, you can't know. But somehow, I don't think so. Our lives aren't as bad as we sometimes think they are."

He had to admit that was true.

 

\- 2015 -

It definitely was a long stretch of a hallway. The walls were bare, and they could barely even be called walls at all. Mostly doors. Otherwise badly painted white, or once painted well and now peeling and fading. Boring. Not meant to be admired.

Adam wasn't saying much. What was the point of walking him here? So he could have company? He didn't much need it.

They reached his door. He stopped. Looked at him. Didn't know what to say. Should have said, "This is my room, thanks," or, "Yeah, thanks for walking me here, you're great," or, "Nice meeting you," again.

Instead, they leaned forward and kissed each other. Deeply. Smashed their mouths together, really. Came out of nowhere. Lips fit perfectly. Nice.

He had never been kissed before.

Broke apart. Stared at each other for the millionth time. Both wild-eyed. Speechless.

"Uh." Him.

Nothing. Adam. Closed his mouth. Confused look on his face again. Something in his eyes. "You're a good kisser," he said finally.

Him? No he wasn’t… couldn’t be… he had never...

"As are you." Stupid response. True.

He didn't know what else to say. Didn't know what the expression on his face was, but it must have been weird. Silently opened the door. Glanced at him. In they went.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two gay dudes

Gentle rocking. Not just the ship. Hands over him. He wasn't alone in his bed. That perfect white uniform strewn on the floor.

He had no regrets.

Woke up. Noticed the hands immediately. Arms too. Hugging him, pulling him closer. Warm. He liked the feeling; it was something strange and something new, but not altogether foreign.

Strong hands, of course. Perfect for the ship, perfect for their situation. He liked the look of them. Everything about him was mesmerizing.

He suddenly wanted to throw the entire assignment away. Forget everything else. Forget anything that might have been going on otherwise. Forget his dreams, ambitions, hopes, despairs, fears - nothing mattered. Just the warmth; he wanted more of it. More and more and more.

He wasn't tired, oddly. He hadn't gotten a ton of hours of sleep. Maybe something had changed.

Well, something had.

He never wanted him to leave. Ever. Not from the bed, not from the ship, not from his life. How could he lose him? Even if they had just met.

That seemed weird to think about.

They were both awake. Unquestionably. Those hands were moving, softly stroking his chest. It felt titillating. Breath on the back of his neck; warm, which wasn't to his surprise. Barely moving, though.

He was facing the interior of the room. Nothing seemed out of order, save for the clothes on the ground. Almost as if nothing of significance had occurred. Funny.

He closed his eyes again, not wanting to go back to sleep, but just resting. The warmth was so lovely. He hadn't realized how much that was missing in his life until it was graciously given to him.

- 2017 -

That phone was waiting for him. Almost taunting him, seductively whispering for him to come closer. He could, very well, walk over to it, and just get the dumb thing over with. But he couldn't. Why? He didn't know.

Was he scared of the phone? Nah. He could call for a pizza any time he wanted without feeling stressed about it. Or call his mom. Speaking of, he should do that sometime soon. It had been a while, and she was probably missing him.

No nightmare the night before. Dreamless sleep. Comfortable bed. Needed a new pillow; his shoulders were aching.

He was sitting on the couch, staring at a TV that wasn’t turned on. He didn't even like TV that much, and Adam didn't either. Why did they have it? One of life's greatest mysteries, surely.

He would call her. He would. Maybe today. Maybe never. If he couldn't even call her now, why was he bothering to schedule an appointment to talk with her for an hour? Couldn't even open his mouth. Ridiculous. He needed to, though. That was what Adam had told him. He needed to talk to her, because this was too much to cope with by himself, which was what he was doing.

He didn't know. Adam seemed to be a nice person to talk to. Always understand. Patient. Forever caring. Maybe _he_ should become a therapist.

-

Job offers. Didn't want any of them. Not for him _specifically_ ; in the newspaper. He glanced at them, his eyes skimming over the small paragraphs, looking for something that might catch his eyes. Nothing in particular did. He was far, far under-qualified for any serious line of work, anyway.

Adam was at work. Adam had a job. Adam could do anything, really, and didn't just lie around every day staring at various objects in his vicinity and wishing life were different. He should be more like him.

Tired. Not necessarily from sleep; he had gotten enough of that. Tired of being scared of things. Tired of nightmares, whether he really did have them every single night or not. Tired of being stuck in a rut. Adam wasn't. Adam was perfect. Lived a great life. Didn't have to worry about frivolous things. He did.

     His hands were shaking again. Just a bit. In the background, sort of. They never really stopped. He was tired, probably from doing nothing.

     What a pathetic waste he was.

-

"Marissa?"

He had gotten up. Tired of being tired. Tired of not doing anything. Bored. Had two seconds of motivation. Was starting to regret it.

What a ridiculous salutation. Didn't even say hello, even after all that practice.

"Yes, this is her." It was now or never. Her voice was just as soft and flowing as he remembered. Musical, sort of.

She remembered who he was. Of course. Remembered Adam, obviously. Didn't seem too offended by his absence for weeks and weeks. Kind. Said of course we can start up again, don't even worry about it. We can get to know each other again.

Almost too kind. His hands were shaking even more. Sweaty, too. Almost dropped the phone.

Swallowed. Tried to smile; this was for his own good. Didn't feel right on his face.

"All right, thanks so much. Bye."

At least he had something good to tell Adam now. He finally got it done and over with. No need to worry anymore. Ha.

\- 2015 -

They were both warm. What time was it? Late, probably. Should have gotten up a while ago. Especially Adam. Didn't he have things to do, places to be?

Shifted over. Turned around. Looked at him. He looked back.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," said Adam in return.

"Shouldn't you be doing something else right now?"

"Maybe. Probably." Didn't seem to care. Blinked.

"You're crazy." He was. Didn't mean it as an insult.

"I am."

"But in a good way."

"You sure about that?" Smile, finally. Leaned in just a bit to kiss his cheek. It felt natural.

"I don't really know what I'm sure about anymore."

"Me neither." Shifted over. Rested his head on his shoulder. Also felt natural.

Quiet. Felt good. Comforting. Didn't want to get up, ever. Sighed.

"Don't you have something to do?"

"Not a job."

"Sure you do, you were telling me about it. Photojournalist."

"I'm not getting paid for it."

"Then why are you here?"

He grinned. "For the attractive men."

"Oh, sure." Laughed. He was in love with his laugh.

His camera was resting on the nightstand next to the bed. Convenient. He grabbed it. Pressed the 'on' button.

"What are you doing?"

On, completely. Screen lit up. He turned. Snapped a picture of Adam. Smiled cheekily.

Squinted. "Hey, you could have at least warned me."

"Could have. I didn't, though."

"I noticed. Here, take another one." He smiled (beautiful smile). Took a picture; that one would stay.

"Kind of a close up," he commented.

"Well, you're only like a quarter of a foot away from me."

An overstatement. They were incredibly close to each other.

"It'll still show up." He hoped it would, anyway.

They spent the next half an hour or so  having an impromptu photo session. Naked, of course. There wasn't much of a background around them or variety between each picture, but it worked.

Adam was a good model, both in looks and in manner. He almost seemed to know what he wanted, or at least what looked appealing for the camera. Different poses. Different pictures. In each one he had a faint glimmer in his eye, most likely of amusement. It could be worse. He could hate it.

He didn't seem to hate a single thing about him.

Pictures, pictures. Stand over there, no, over just a bit, smile, don't smile, look nonchalant and haughty. Now don't. You're great, ha ha.

"I must admit," said Adam after about the seventeenth shot, "I did not think this would happen when I signed up for this job."

"What job?" Took another. Didn't have enough.

"Ha ha. I do have a job, you know."

"Chin up a bit. You know, you're perfectly welcome to leave at any time."

"It's too late now."

"You're going to be late no matter what." Smiled again, not at anything that he had said but just at the general silliness of the situation.

"I guess that's true. Have you stopped, or...?"

"Nah." He held the camera up to his eye, just to look at him through the lens.

"Admiring the view?" Struck a pose, intending to be funny. Ended up looking gorgeous.

"You're the prettiest thing I've ever taken a picture of, that's for sure."

"Seriously?"

"Without a doubt." This was _much_ better than the assignment.

-

"You know, I don't know a thing about you. A thing. Other than your name. And yet I slept with you and let you take my nudes."

"All in a day's work." They were lying on the bed again. On it, not under the covers. On each other, really. Screw the ship and whatever they had come there to do on it.

"What if you sell them? Or post them online? Or laugh about them to your friends?"

"See, you make the assumption that I have friends to show them to."

"What about the other two?"

"Dude, no."

The ship was slowly rocking. They easily could have gone to sleep again.

"You could be lying."

"I'm not the type."

"What if you're lying about that, too?"

"What if you're secretly a space alien? I don't know that for sure. Yet, I don't worry about it."

"Oh, whatever." Traced a line down his chest with his index finger. Felt good.

"Anyway, like I said, you can leave any time you want. You're not my babysitter."

"Feels like it."

"Go, then."

"No."

Quiet.

\- 2017 -

"I love you."

He had a constant underlying fear that he never told him that enough. A few times a day didn't seem nearly enough. Maybe once a minute. Once every second. He wished.

Smile. Beauty. "I love you too."

_Yeah, but do you know? How much? How very very much?_

"So much."

That was him. Drowsy. He was so glad that he was home.

"Me too."

Beauty.

-

For their anniversary they were going to the lake. One of the Great ones, obviously, not a skimpy one. Those were everywhere; they did, after all, live in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes.

That seemed to be an understatement.

Superior. The lake. Adam was superior as well. It suited him. Neither of them had ever been there before.

"It's up north," Adam had said. Obviously. "Bit of a drive."

"It's worth it, though." They weren't too sure what they would do there. Take pictures. Sleep. Have sex. Drink coffee. The whole nine yards.

"Yeah, true. Plus, it's not like we're going to the ocean or anything." Laughed. Both of them would love to go to the ocean.

Well, they would have. Would have loved.

-

He still had those pictures from when they met. They had long since been taken off his camera, of course, downloaded onto his computer and stored away in a folder titled "Property Liens" or something similar. He had looked at them once or twice - stumbled upon them the first time, as he had forgotten all about them and had wondered why exactly he had so boring a folder on his computer. He laughed a lot when he looked at them. They had no clue what they were getting into, and it was wonderful.

-

Tuesday at half past three o’clock. In town. An hour long. Just to talk, nothing else. Think, too, of course. Think out loud.

He would rather talk with Adam. He never felt awkward talking to him, not at all, not once in all the years he had known him. Sometimes when he wanted to bring certain things up it was nerve-wracking, but just talking? Fine. He actually wanted to tell him what was on his mind.

They had talked to each other the night before. About their anniversary, mostly. Twenty-six days away. A life time. They would get a cheap hotel. Go walking. Check things out. Relax, for once. That was something he needed more than anything else.

It would probably be the most uneventful trip ever taken. Just them, not meeting any other people; just them, living their regular lives, but in another place and focused entirely on each other. It would be nice, though. That was all they wanted, and as they discussed it it was plain that it was something that they were both going to enjoy.

He had told Adam about his appointment, of course, and he had been entirely thrilled. There was a little bit of an "I told you so" to his tone when he congratulated him, but he didn't mind. He _had_ told him so, after all.

"I was just talking to her a couple weeks ago -" Of course he was. "- and I mentioned you. A lot. I think you remember that." He did. "But anyway, she said she thought you were a bit scared. To talk to her, I mean. Why?"

Why indeed? That was a complicated question, one he didn't feel too confident answering.

Because...

Well.

\- 2015 -

"I should go back, I think. People will be wondering where I went."

That genuinely hurt. Go back, yeah. Leave. He would be alone again, after that night and day of bliss and good company. Gone, yeah.

"Yeah, I bet they will." Forced smile. Stay for the rest of my life.

"I mean, it's not like I'll be going away forever." Laughed. Also forced. "I'll still be here and everything. Just not, like, in this room."

He almost asked if he could stay there anyway. He had paid for his own room, though, and there was probably some appropriate reason for him to stay there. Too bad.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Leaving.

"Maybe I'll take a picture of you." A joke, but he wanted to.

"I hope." Smile. Ha! Perfect. God.

He left. Stood there, smiled faintly at nothing, then collapsed back on the bed. Sighed audibly. Closed his eyes. Felt empty. He wasn't even gone, idiot.

\- 2017 -

Saturday evening. Relaxing. They sat on the couch. He leaned against him, rested his head on his shoulder. Sighed. He felt like crying, for some reason.

"What's up?" He always knew.

"Don't know."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Close your eyes." He complied. Pushed his face against his arm. Inhaled. So glad he was there with him.

"What?" he whispered.

"You're tired, aren't you? Rest."

"I've been tired all day."

"That's not good." Adam was never one for accusations. It was always an inner battle for him with his brain, screaming at him for being a lazy, pathetic epitome of the bad qualities of society, and Adam didn't even think to blame him for anything. A good soul.

"I never get enough sleep."

"With all those nightmares? No one could. Shh."

It was almost as if he knew.

He didn't think for once. Concentrated on nothing; just breathed in and out. Adam could always stop his racing thoughts, somehow.

"What would I do without you?"

"Without me?" A soft laugh, one that almost sounded bitter. "You would probably be far better off."

He didn't mean it in a technical way.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for panic attack

\- 2015 -

They didn't see each other for about two weeks. It felt like much longer, possibly a millennium or two. He kept thinking Adam would pop up somewhere - anywhere - maybe in a hallway, or in the corner of some room, or anywhere, but no. No sight of him.

Fortunately, he got along fine with his assignment. His camera was working as perfectly as ever, and he loitered around various places where people tended to gather together, just snapping shots from the distance. Some of them were rather boring, and would be eventually discarded; some were so great that he was frankly amazed that he himself had taken them.

On the first day (of his assignment; he had not participated in the actual, literal first day) he had the fortune to glimpse every person with a white uniform be briefed, early in the morning just after a quick breakfast. There were a number of spots where this occurred, given that there were so many uniformed officers, so the chances of seeing Adam were next to nil. And, as it happened, there was no sign of him.

It was rather interesting, though. There was the mass of white uniforms outside on the deck (fore side), standing in order, barely even blinking, all at attention. There was the few men and women in black uniforms, looking sharper and in some ways cleaner than the ones in white, giving orders. And then there was him. Feeling awkward, but somehow necessary. Took pictures. Moved around to get different angles. Didn't look any of them directly in the eye; gazed at them through his camera lens. Focus, and click.

They all looked so sharp, and his camera seemed to bring that out. Maybe he was just lucky. Lucky for taking good pictures, and lucky for not being forced to be in one of the uniforms himself.

They were already out at sea by then. They wouldn't be going far, and when they eventually reached wherever it was that they would be stopping at, they wouldn't move any further. Adam's job would probably start at that point. He would probably get some more interesting photos, too.

Right now he wasn't sure exactly what it was that they were doing. Preparing for the end. The end of what? Well, whatever.

He had heard the briefing that he had taken pictures at, of course. Something about guns that he didn't quite understand. When they stopped, most everyone would be given one. Not everyone - some people, like Adam, were there for other purposes - but a great deal of them. He kind of tuned them out at that point. It scared him, really.

\- 2017 -

It happened again. Woke up in the middle of the night. Sobbing. Shaking. Aching everywhere, especially inwardly. Panic, panic, panic.

He didn't even have to wake up Adam. He woke up immediately. Looked scared. He was more scared. Pulled him closer. Said it was going to be okay. He wasn't sure that it would.

Shallow breathing. Sweating. Crying. Crying. So much. Couldn't breathe. Adam.

"It'll be okay. It'll be okay, shh." Shh? He couldn't. It wouldn't be okay, he was about to explode. He wanted to die. Dying would make it okay, probably.

Adam didn't even ask if it were a nightmare or not. Honestly, he didn't even know if it was. He couldn't remember a dream of any sort, just waking up. Wanting to die. Dying already.

Heart beating fast fast fast fast fast. Stop it! Slow down. Maybe he was having a heart attack. Probably. Adam, call the goddamn ambulance already.

He didn't. Held him some more. Rubbed his arms. Kissed his cheek once or twice, maybe more. Said things. Stuff like he had survived this before, he would survive it again. Maybe not this time.

He could barely even open his eyes. He didn't want to. He didn't have to see anything that way. Nothing outside. There were other things in the world besides Adam, so there was no point of even looking. It would find him. Everything would find him.

"My chest hurts." Might have been his stomach. Actually, it was. Actually, they both hurt.

"That's because you're breathing quickly." No advice. Just facts. That was what he needed, really.

Took a deep breath. That hurt too. Left a weird, burning feeling in his stomach when he exhaled. Didn't like it. Hugged Adam, but didn't feel like he was hugging him.

Adam pressed him down lightly onto his pillow. Stroked his cheek. Lied down next to him.

"You're gonna be okay," he said.

Didn't know if he was still crying or not. Everything felt like a dream. A bad dream. More like he was trapped, really. What time was it? Did time still exist?

He could barely produce a syllable. His throat felt weird. Wanted to cry. Knot in his stomach. Breathing shallow, quick. Didn't feel like himself.

"Okay."

Not a word he related to. How many minutes had it been? Had it been 30 seconds since he woke up, or an hour or so? He couldn't concentrate.

He hated himself. So much. Adam should just get away from him and leave him to rot.

He didn't do either of those. Stayed next to him. Didn't touch him much. He didn't know if he appreciated that or loathed it.

Adam whispered things to him, so quietly, tickling his ear. He couldn't concentrate on those either. They slipped in and out of his brain, in one ear and out the other, gone before he could realize what he had said.

Dark. It was so dark. Good. He would probably die even more if there was a hint of light.

He had stopped crying. Dulled now. Didn't feel like anything. Knot still in his stomach. Had closed his eyes a long time before. Opened them, stared at the ceiling just to stare. It felt relaxing, somehow. Numbing.

"I love you," Adam was saying. Why was he saying that? Should be saying he thought he was pathetic. "Remember that, all right? I'll be right here."

His face was pressed against his neck, shoulder, ear, around there. Whispering right next to him. He could hear his words perfectly.

He didn't say anything in return. Wanted to cry some more. It was punishment, in a way. He deserved the worst type of torture.

This was the worst type of torture.

...Wait, why did he say that? Goddammit, goddammit, _torture torture torture_ -

He started crying again. Sat up. Tried to close his eyes. They stung, partially from the tears, partially from the sheer pain.

-

Woke up the next morning feeling numb. The second he woke up, he noticed his heart was pounding again - or was it the waking up that had caused it to speed up? He didn't know. He didn't care anymore, either.

Adam wasn't there. He had gotten up, obviously. Why? He said he would be right there...

Horrid.

Swallowed. His mouth was so dry.

He didn't want to get out of bed, although it probably would have helped. People always said that to him - not Adam, but other people. Probably Marissa at one point. _Get up when you don't feel well; just walking around will make every physical trouble improve._ Was this even a physical trouble? It was, but not entirely.

Could just walking around fix his life?

Staying in bed seemed more appealing for the moment. He grabbed the blanket weakly. Pulled it up; it didn't go up very far, but it was better than before. Leaned over a bit, smashed his face against the pillow. His heart was still racing.

He took a deep breath. That weird feeling in his stomach still persisted, and it hurt. It seemed that no matter what stage his breathing was in, it pained him regardless.

He was so pathetic. That was always at the forefront of his mind: he was pathetic, and entirely undeserving, and he was really, really sick of thinking that way.

He was so tired. Tired of everything. Tired of his life, tired of everyone and everything who had a part in it, tired of tiredness, tired of...

It went on. Tired of everything but Adam, really. He would never get tired of Adam.

-

He could barely remember how they had met. It was on the ship, wasn't it?

The ship made his heart leap, jump start as if awoken without notice. Felt sick. Blinked rapidly. Breathing was so shallow, wanted to throw up, was he going to? Maybe. Couldn't get up. Adam, Adam, Adam -

Shut his eyes. Make it stop. Think about other things.

Adam had given him flowers once. Lilacs, his favorite. Out of nowhere. He had gone shopping earlier, just for food, but had also come home with a bouquet of those beauties. He had been pretty happy about that.

Right? He had been happy.

Yeah. He knew he had. Even if he couldn't remember it that well. Who wouldn't be happy if their significant other came home with a bouquet of their favorite flowers, just for them? He wasn't that weird. He had been.

Imagine that. He had been happy once.

Right. Lilacs. They were a soft purple. Lilac in color, probably, although they seemed more purple than any other shade. He liked purple. It was like a treat for his eyes. And lilacs smelled so nice. He had sniffed them, and he had smiled. And thanked Adam. And gave him a kiss, of course. He could never forget the kiss.

Those lilacs were long since dead now. He didn't want to think about that.

He should buy Adam some flowers. What flowers did he like? Probably all of them. Why hadn't he ever asked that? Stupid. He was a terrible husband.

-

Adam came home. He felt marginally better. Still horrible. Still wanted to die. But better.

He kissed him. Not just a cutesy little peck on the lips, a real, proper one. Adam was definitely taken aback - he was still for a second. But he kissed back. Smiled against his mouth.

Broke away. "What was that?"

"A kiss, what do you think?" It was the first thing he had said all day. His throat hurt a bit.

"I didn't mean that. What's the reason for it?"

"I love you."

Smiled. His eyes smiled, too. "You're such a sweetie."

"You're more of a sweetie."

"Aw, you're flattering me." Started to walk away. He followed him. "Are you feeling better?"

"A bit." Definitely more than the night before. "Not a hundred percent, but..."

"I wouldn't expect that." He sure was more of a sweetie. Sat down on the couch. Looked up at him expectantly. He sat down next to him.

Adam raised his hand. Tucked away a strand of hair that had fallen on his face. Stroked his cheek in the process. He shivered.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," Adam said.

"Don't be."

"No, I am. It sucks. I feel bad for you, really. I think about you a lot, you know."

"I know."

"I think about what you're doing. And how you're getting through the day. I think you don't tell me as much as you could."

"About what?"

"Your day. Not about what you do. About if you felt like crap or not. That's what I care about, not if you spent ten hours lying on this couch."

He had done that. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. You don't tell me that much. You don't have to hide it, you know." He was looking at him. Right at him. "I care. Believe me."

He was far too pure for him. Honestly. How could he possibly deserve a husband as great as him? Never in his life could he be that worthy.

He looked back at him. Right in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that had haunted him since day one. It didn't feel awkward at all.

"I had a horrible day today," he said.

Adam's smile grew. "That's the spirit."

"I spent the whole day thinking I was having a heart attack. Most of it was in bed, but I got up and I swear I felt worse. Like I was going to die."

The smile faded. "You should have called me."

"I couldn't. I couldn't even talk. I didn't start talking today until you came home just now."

"Aw." Wrapped an arm around him. Hugs felt good. He wanted an infinite amount of them.

He looked at him. His hair was shiny, but soft. Nice warm color of brown, matching his eyes. Almost reaching his shoulders, but not quite. He leaned in and smelled it; it faintly emanated the flowery scent of shampoo.

"You like my hair?" Murmur.

"Always have."

"I know." Kissed his cheek again. He must have done that a million times since they met.

"I like pulling it." He wasn't quite sure why he said that out loud.

"Do you?"

"Mm hmm."

"Funny. I like that too."

They needed to stop talking.

He kissed him. On the lips again. Deep. He missed those type of kisses. There were far too many quick kisses exchanged between them, and not nearly enough on the lips. Adam reciprocated - pressed back, and pressed him back, too, and climbed on top of him, mm. Kisses.

He broke it. "Devious, you." He wasn't sure where this humor was coming from. He had sulked around the whole day, lost in himself, and now this.

"You're the one who started it." Stopped the conversation before he could give a response. Shifted his leg. Leaned in closer. Kissed him, oh man.

Broke it again. Stared at him, eyes not entirely opened to their full extent. Stared. Gazed, really. He was beautiful. "Get on with it."

Twitch of his lips. He was staring at him, too, but dude to their positions he was looking downwards, which was sexier. A bit of a smirk. Damn.

What day was it?

-

Skin on skin. Always a nice feeling. Warm. Comforting. Fragile, but in a peaceful sort of way. This was much better than feeling like the muck he was earlier.

He felt like a sinner. It was Easter Monday, that was why. He shouldn't be caving in. Taking advantage of himself. Shame was what he deserved.

He didn't necessarily feel that, though. He should have, and by all means he could, but he didn't. Not then.

Cradled Adam - he cradled him, not the other way around. He supposed it was because of their positions. They had messed around a bit, but they had returned to where they were before. Adam was resting his head on his shoulder, next to his neck, barely touching it with his lips, humming a tune.

"What's that?" Low.

"Thinking." Also low.

"Of what?" A song, evidently.

"I don't know. It came to mind."

"Dedicate it to me."

"I always dedicate it to you. Give someone else a chance."

"Like who?"

"No clue." Kissed his neck, barely a touch; he knew he would. "I don't have anyone else I care about that much."

"That's sad. Just me, huh?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I don't need anyone else."

Ultimate sweetie.

"You're cute." Stroked his back, just a little. Adam was used to that; didn't even shiver.

"So I've heard."

"I mean it."

"You are, too."

"Am I?"

"Of course."

What a boring conversation. He loved every second of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is when shit starts to go down


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna post this a couple days ago but my dumb laptop restarted and i lost all the changes i made so i just gave up on the world until today when i got my rear in gear

     - 2015 -  
  
They loathed them, and the hatred was reciprocated. Each side wanted to smash out the other, to decimate them, to finally put an end to what they each perceived as wrongdoing. Were either of them right? No one could ever be certain.  
  
They called themselves the Society for the Betterment of Men. The sexist part of the name should have tipped off anyone from the start that they weren't all good and pure, but that in particular was shrugged off. And anyway, from the beginning no one seems truly bad, even if they have a few flaws. Nevertheless, they existed, if only in small doses. They started up in a few years before it all went to hell, by a duo everyone knew and everyone at least begrudgingly considered powerful: Zachary Addison and Ashton Wescott, two men who by any means could have turned to a different angle of life, but didn't. That, indeed, was not how it turned out.  
  
The Society for the Betterment of Men: SBM for short. It started small, of course, with just the two men with their outrageous ideas, bouncing off each other and crafting worlds together. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Many great things had once come out of such great discussions, and many more things were to come. Great ideas came from bright individuals, and even greater ones came from the collaboration of like-minded people.  
  
"Great," however, wasn't always a positive term. Great was magnificent. Great was large. Great was powerful. Power was really their main goal.  
  
It was a long and complex history, and to tell it all would be segueing into an entirely different story. It involved a large number of deals, bargains, hushed tones, and the gentle, careful use of persuasion. It involved handshakes, shifty eyes, chatting, laughing, making friends and enemies alike. It involved threats, losses of innocence, and in some cases death.  
  
The death was where most people drew the line. The death was where they turned from harmless to not, from a minor threat to major, from a group that had stayed mostly in the background to a group that was very much a household name.  
  
\- 2017 -  
  
War. That was why they were there. That was why they were on the ship. That was why everyone wore uniforms, why everyone was given strict daily orders, why everyone was fighting, or preparing to fight. It was why he had wanted to document the whole thing, from start to finish, from an insider's perspective, while not getting totally involved in the process. He hated war. The thought of it sent chills through his body, made him uncomfortable and wary. But it was a part of life, and had been since before the beginning of recorded time. He would have to accept it.  
  
That's why he was so relieved when Adam told him what his job was. It wasn't just a shared interest, although that was indeed a major part of it. It was the fact that he wasn't alone in his ideals. Sure, he may have worn the uniform, and been alongside everyone else - but these were desperate times. Nearly everyone above the age of 18 had been forced to go to some line of work dealing with the war. It was only their luck that not all of them involved fighting.  
  
-  
  
Marissa's office. A little room in a large building filled with a great deal of rooms, all seemingly identical. He only found it because he had been there before, and he was thankful for that. Asking for directions would be awkward, and he wasn't up for feeling embarrassed before it was necessary.  
  
She had a little waiting room in the front, with a couple of chairs. He sat down in one, the one nearest to the door. Stared down at a stack of magazines, all of them at least four months old. Shining, tantalizing women plastered on the cover, practically beckoning him to read the magazine, to fix the deep, dark secrets they knew he had. Didn't apply to him. None of it did.  
  
He wasn't sure about a lot of things, but he was pretty confident that getting a slimmer waistline wouldn't fix any of his problems.  
  
He ignored them, looked up, waited. She had said Tuesday at 3:30, right? Not Friday at two o’clock?  
  
No, she hadn't. He was pretty sure of that too. He had written it down in three different places, and had told Adam. Adam had really been the one who had reminded him that he was supposed to go. To be honest, he would much rather have not gone and paid the fee than to come here and spend his time.  
  
He was horrible.  
  
Door swung open. His heart swung too. She poked her head out, recognized him, smiled warmly.  
  
"Oh, hi. You should have said something, I was in here."  
  
He already felt awkward. Managed a grin, stood up, walked in. Couldn't muster up the courage to look her in the eye for more than a split second at a time.  
  
He sat down at a chair, which was thankfully comfortable. She sat down too, sprawled herself, really, on a couch opposite him. Not unprofessionally, just as someone wanting to make the atmosphere more cozy.  
  
"So, Rick." That warm smile again. Not antagonistic in itself, but it didn't make him feel any better whatsoever. "You want to talk again?"  
  
These people always stated the obvious. They always formed the statement as a question, too. Trying to get him to talk. He seemed to have clammed up, though.  
  
His mouth was so dry. Why did it do that so often?  
  
"Yeah." His throat was dry too. He should have drunk water beforehand. Or something.  
  
"Same stuff?"  
  
She remembered. Of course. She had talked to Adam multiple times.  
  
He just nodded.  
  
She squinted. Still not antagonistic in any way. Why was he so scared? "You seem a little tense."  
  
More than a little. He nodded again. He was blowing this.  
  
"Want to talk about it?"  
  
He blinked. Might as well tell her the truth. He shook his head.  
  
"About your tenseness or anything at all that's bothered you?"  
  
"Both," he said. He would much rather go home and go to sleep.  
  
"I see." Drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. Thinking, of course. "I'll talk to you, then."  
  
If he couldn't have sleep, at least he could have silence. He nodded again. Thought that was rude.  
  
"That's nice, yeah."  
  
Quiet for a bit. She was thinking again. He didn't blame her. "You seem to be a bit less talkative than before."  
  
"Yeah." Always the master of words, he was.  
  
"Do you want to talk about that?"  
  
He probably should. He was paying to be here, after all. He couldn't. He could barely speak. He was insane.  
  
"I don't think I can." Truth.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it -" It what? "It... makes me crazy. To think about anything."  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Yeah, it seems like it." Well, he was talking now. "I'm scared of everything, and it affects the way I... live. And even that scares me."  
  
"In what way?"  
  
"Well, it..." How could he even begin to narrow it down? There were so many reasons. "I guess it scares me 'cause I'm afraid I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing nothing. And being scared. And that being scared is going to stop me from living. Because it does."  
  
She looked serious now. Sympathetic. "Does it? How?"  
  
"I..." Great, even talking about this was making him nervous. Could he do anything without getting all panicky? "I - I mean, I can't even talk now or anytime. I sound insane."  
  
"Not insane."  
  
"I feel like it." Maybe he was insane. That was what they had told him, after all.  
  
-  
  
"Adam, do you really love me?"  
  
That was something that he wanted to ask him. Every day, pretty much. Multiple times a day. Nearly every time he laid eyes on him.  
  
"Like, really, _really_ love me?"  
  
It was the most ridiculous question he had ever thought of, and that was the precise reason why he never voiced it out loud. Of course he really, really loved him. They were married. They were very close to each other, in fact. Extremely close.  
  
Extremely close, in both the physical and emotional states of the word. Right now, it was simply physical. Both of them lying in bed. Adam was sleeping. Adam always got a good night's sleep, wasn't that nice? Adam never had to worry about anything but being perfect, and he probably didn't have to worry about that, either.  
  
Soft face, muscles relaxed, eyes closed, sleeping. Absolutely stunning. Gorgeous beyond belief. He in no way deserved him.  
  
-

He had once told him, late at night before their marriage the next day, that he still had time to call it off. Get a far distance away from his miserable self and start an actual normal life. With a wife, probably, and kids. He would never be able to give him kids.

Adam had, of course, told him that his idea was the stupidest thing he had ever heard in his life. He had agreed, of course. Wasn't sure why he had said it.  
  
But Adam had also told him why he loved him. Why he fell in love with him, and why that love still persisted. _Because of your personality, and the way you show it._ His words.  
  
That resonated with him. He still thought about it, even when the topic was in no way applicable. Adam loved him for who he was, and truly and purely for it, too.

Weird.  
  
Still, though. That was almost a year ago. Did he still love him that much? Even after all the nightmares? Even after he had proven that he was a basic, useless human being? Even after he constantly, day after day, night after night, made his life more of a challenge than it would have been had he never met him?  
  
Adam didn't seem to care about any of that, though. He still smiled at him all the time. Still kissed him in various places. Still slept by his side. He was still there.  
  
It was befuddling, to say the least.  
  
\- 2015 -  
  
The Society for the Betterment of Men were the real insane ones.  
  
Once they had gathered a large following, they began weeding out the ones who would provide nothing of value to them. "Value," in this case, meant a strange and crippling underlying urge to control others. And sometimes, this urge wasn't hidden very far underneath. That's who they were really recruiting for their cause.  
  
Control. It was a complex term, and an even more complex idea. Did they have the right to control others? Probably not. But under whose laws? Under what higher form of control? What was stopping them from being the highest - nothing over them but the sky and the stars?  
  
People who wanted that control came to them. Those individuals who wanted a say in the lives of others. The ones who had a passionate ideology, and who thought everyone should follow it. They were who came to SBM. And they were who wasn't weeded out.  
  
What came hand in hand with control? The means to punish others. They were very fond of that. If it was necessary, it existed. If it went under the description of their job, it was great. If it left them in complete power, it was the best thing in the world.  
  
If they were to properly control everyone, it would have to be used. And they in no ways hid this fact.  
  
\- 2017 -

Earlier, Adam was awake, humming something. Another melody, different from the last one, although they could have fit together almost perfectly. They always did that.  
  
His eyes were half shut, gazing directly at him. He looked as if he were at the height of contentment.  
  
"What if I got famous?"  
  
Those were the crippling questions on his mind, huh? What he would give to trade brains - or issues, at the very least.  
  
"Famous from what?"  
  
"Guess."  
  
"Going to jail." He was hilarious.  
  
"Yeah, for punching you." Adam did not look in the slightest as if he were going to attempt that.  
  
"You can't go to jail for punching someone."

"Oh. Well, I can't think of anything else."  
  
The purest soul of all the pure souls.  
  
"Okay, then, I give up." They both knew.  
  
"From music, you dummy. Like, what if someone actually heard my music. And it turned into a lot of people. And even more. And then suddenly I was famous. How would you feel?"  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "Is there some surprise that you're hiding from me?"  
  
"Ha. No. I'm saying hypothetically, what if that were to happen?"  
  
"I would support you in anything you did." Maybe he wasn't such a bad husband.  
  
"Aw."  
  
"What would you do? If you were famous. I bet you would hate it."  
  
Adam shrugged. "Maybe not. I would try to be nice to everyone."  
  
"You can't be nice to everyone." If anyone could, though, it would be him.  
  
"I would try."

"Huh." He couldn't even imagine him as a famous musician, honestly. He couldn't imagine him as a famous anything. He was his, and his alone.

"You could be a famous photographer. I bet you could."  
  
Well, he had sold a couple of his pictures, once, when he had the motivation to do things like that. Not an implausible idea. He wasn't great, though, not by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
"I don't know." So often his answer.  
  
"You could. You take amazing pictures." He sounded tired, but relaxed. Content, again. Lovely.  
  
He might have blushed had they not exchanged even more sugary compliments to each other on a daily basis. "Not that amazing."  
  
"You're so modest, I swear." He sat up a little. Looked excited about this, even. His eyes were glinting. "I bet you could. If more people saw them. That one picture you took at the lake last fall, I couldn't even believe that one."  
  
That was a different lake than their anniversary destination, obviously. That one was a lot smaller and closer to their house. Kind of boring on its own, but he had, for that moment, turned it into a thing of beauty.  
  
"I swear, you need to publicize yourself more. We need advertising. I'll start tomorrow morning."  
  
Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. He could never tell with him.  
  
Adam slipped back to his original position on the bed. Eyes were still glinting, shimmering slightly with ideas. "It could happen, Rick. Don't believe it couldn't just 'cause you think it's not possible. It could be, very much so."  
  
Everyone needed an Adam in their life.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry friends...I've been busy with finals and coming home from college and lots of stuff...but now it is summer so hopefully I will have more free time. here is a new chapter

For the most part, he felt deeply unsettled by life. It wasn't a specific thing that made him anxious - although those specific things did in fact exist. Really, it was just existing that drove him to a near breakdown. And not even a breakdown - sometimes it wasn't even the physical excitement that kept him up and made him wish he were dead. Sometimes it was the numbness.

That was what really made him crazy. Literally crazy. No sane person could experience that much numbness in their daily life. Numbness coupled with the feeling that he just wasn't there, mentally or physically.

Sometimes he would look at Adam and it was if he were staring at him blankly, without feeling that he himself was really looking at him. And not specifically at Adam. Sometimes he walked, lied down, breathed and it didn't feel like himself. Like he were watching the movie or reading the novelization of his life - the part of himself, of course, played by someone else.

Was that normal? He might ask Marissa. He might forget. It might take months before he would bring it up with her. Or she might figure it out for herself.

Another day. Another entirely miserable day. Not worth it. It rained, poured, just as it had a billion times that year so far alone. Dribbled down the pipes and gutters, making an irregular dripping noise. A faint pattering hum of the downpour. Background jargon.

He sat down. Lied down for a while. Stared at the ceiling. Got up again. Thought of walking back to their room, and going back to bed and sleeping - no, it wasn't even seven o’clock. He was horrible. Walked to the kitchen instead.

"You feeling alright?" Adam. He didn't have to ask; he already knew he wasn't. He only asked so he could get him to speak up. A nice thing to do, but not entirely helpful or in his favor at all.

He just looked at him with tired eyes. Didn't really blink as often as he should. He could barely muster up the strength to nod or shake his head.

The latter, of course, would be the correct response.

\- 2015 -

They stopped eventually. The ship. The crew. Stopped at a standstill in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, population zero. In the midst of the water. Was anyone there except them? Maybe a few fish that had gotten lost.

It was an advantage for his assignment, at least. Time to really document things. He had already collected a number of photographs, but they were all beginning to look a bit redundant. Everyone had been doing the same thing for about two straight weeks now, preparing and toughening up and who knows what else. It was all starting to look the same. This, hopefully, would be different.

He got dressed the morning they stopped, brushed his teeth and hair (not at the same time), grabbed his camera, ventured out. Bright eyed, bright faced. This was shaping up to be not a bad day indeed. Things would change, and he would document the changes, and perhaps even history would be made. Not today, maybe, but soon. That alone was worth perking up.

The hallways were as empty as ever, but he didn't mind that quite so much this morning. He would see them all eventually, of course, and they might even be happy to see him. He would greet them warmly, he hoped. Or he might stay silent. Neither would cause a mess.

He ate breakfast (alone, as he had eaten every meal save for one) and, as soon as he was finished, headed outside to the top deck to get the most visible area packed into the lens of his camera.

Those damn elevators. He guess they were somewhat necessary, seeing as there was more than one floor, but they were an eyesore. They didn't fit in at all, and half the time they didn't work properly. There were only four on the whole ship, so it should have been a luxury, but even still they weren't needed, especially since the crew wasn't there for relaxation or pleasure (something that had been enforced strictly; funny how he and Adam had defied that rule on the first day).

Top deck. The wind blew sharply in his face, and he squinted. A passing seagull flew over his head, squawking, sounding annoying as hell. Maybe it would be nice for a picture, though. He held up his camera (already powered on, as it were), held still, _click_. Yeah, rather nice. Mornings weren't always the worst things in the world.

There was a faint chill in the air - present only because it was, in fact, morning. As the day went on it would give way to the warmth of the sun, and more people would likely to be up here. For now, though, it was relatively quiet.

There weren't many people on the top deck. Those that were were dressed in black uniforms - no, there was one in white. He looked tense. Pacing back and forth (not obviously, but somehow he could tell), eyebrows furrowed just a degree. Looking out over the deck to the wide stretch of seemingly unending water.

Funny how they were both gazing out at that stretch of water for entirely different reasons.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Still a bit tired. Fighting the slightest urge to yawn. Maybe he should have had coffee. Nah. It wasn't best to have it every day, and besides, it wasn't as if he were dead tired. Not that much.

He yawned anyway and another picture of the water. Maybe he would stay up here just a bit -

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

He jolted, caught by surprise. Swallowed. Turned around. The beeping persisted, and the people in uniform were just as startled as he was, hurrying down to the lower levels. What was going on? Was everything okay? Obviously not.

Should he stay here? Was it safest? There was a chill running down the back of his neck. Maybe not.

Looked back. _Beep beep beep beep._ Turned around, looked at the elevator door. _Beep beep beep beep._

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep -_

"Stop," he moaned, shutting his eyes. The beeping continued.

He could feel the strange sense that his whole body was tingling in a strange way. Very unsettling, and nothing like he had ever experienced before. Almost as if he were being electrocuted. Took a deep breath. Ran to the far side of the deck away from the doors - it probably wasn't the best and certainly not the safest option, but at the moment, it would be quieter. And indeed, when he got to the edge of the ship, the sound of the beeping seemed to be much less piercing.

He sank down, crouched against the wall, held his camera on top of his thighs. He stared down at it. A shame it couldn't record video.

He couldn't look up. He could barely even move. What was he supposed to do? The beeping still hadn't stopped, even if it wasn't bursting his eardrums anymore. What was going on?

Now came the fear that if he were to go back into the interior of the ship, horrific things would happen to him.

His heart was pounding with a severity and steady rhythm that could rival the beeping noise. He looked down at his camera again. What was he supposed to do?

Hide.

The beeping stopped. He still couldn't look up. Why had it stopped? Was everything okay now? He closed his eyes. Wanted to cry. Wanted to go home. Why had he taken this stupid assignment? Why didn't he listen to the part of his conscience that was in charge of safety?

Breathed in. Breathed out. Inhaled. Exhaled. In. Out. If he concentrated on that, things seemed less out of control.

Maybe he was a bit calmer now. The beeping had definitely started something, and he wasn't sure what. But what had happened to everyone else?

Silence. For a minute. For another minute. For what seemed like hours. Then the faint, rhythmic sound of footsteps.

His heart dropped.

Footsteps. No, no, he wasn't nearly ready for this.

Footsteps. _Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._ He attempted to crouch down even more. Could he run off again? No, no way. They would definitely hear that. Stupid.

Stay still. The footsteps were growing louder. They stopped in front of him. He swallowed, didn't dare look up.

"Got another one hiding here," a voice called out.

-

Everything that happened next was a blur, and in years to come (when he plucked up the courage to think about it, at least) that particular section of time would be difficult to recall with clarity - a pity, since it was so crucial to what followed. They ordered him to stand up - something he didn't do immediately, but was forced to when the man in front of him kicked his shin. Man, did that hurt. So he winced and stood up to face the man. Looked him directly in the eyes - a painful procedure, but it had to be done. He was taller than he was. Thick dark brown hair, almost like Adam's but shorter and not nearly as attractive. Piercing eyes, maybe hazel in color. Staring down at him like he was the most pitiful and pathetic waste of a human being he had ever had the misfortune to order around. Somehow, though, he carried an air of confidence, probably from the power he knew he held over him.

"Move," he said. A direct, monosyllabic order. One always had to be sure to obey those.

He moved. There was no use pretending that he would be able to get out of this one safely. He knew he should have gone back in the elevator, goddammit...

But what if he had? Would his current position be any less threatening? Where was everyone else? Probably inside. They weren't as stupid as he was. He really should have been paying attention to the briefings all the people in uniform had received. He was there, behind the scenes... Well, no use regretting it all now.

They didn't take the elevator. The stairs, instead. He was shoved across the deck, down the stairs, moving two at a time. Thankfully, his camera was still in order, functioning as properly as ever.

Hopefully they wouldn't take that away. They might. He felt sorry for it. The whole first part of the assignment, all those precious pictures. Gone, soon enough. Maybe. Maybe not.

He was shoved down another flight of stairs. This guy sure wanted to move quickly. Neither of them uttered a syllable. Finally, they made it to the second deck, where the exits were. They weren't going to throw him into the water, were they? Were they? Surely that man could have tossed him overboard on the top deck.

There were cleaning supplies everywhere. The whole place smelled faintly of ammonia, and it would have given him a headache had he been paying attention to it. The dull hum of the ship pervaded his thoughts. It was excruciating.

He turned to the man. "What are you doing?"

No answer. He hadn't expected one. He was so tensed up he could have imploded on the spot. Breathe again.

A minute passed, then another. What was he doing? Killing him with the sheer passage of time? It was working.

Another minute, and then the man cleared his throat and checked his cell phone. 

"You're in luck," he said, not looking at him. "Your ride's here."

That didn't sound appealing.

-

It was another boat. A much smaller one. A ferry, maybe, or a dingy. He wasn't quite sure of the difference between the two.

Anyway, it took him. He was - not shoved, but not so much gracefully escorted - on to the boat, in the corner, where a couple of other men (at least, he thought they were men; they were wearing hoods and sunglasses, so it wasn't too easy to tell) watched his every move. He didn't even glance at them. Whatever they wanted with him, they didn't deserve his respect. He wasn't sure if they wanted it, either.

There still was no sign of anyone on the ship, though. Had they all gone? Disappeared without a trace? Left him to be slaughtered? Ha. Quaint.

Thank God he still had his camera. They hadn't taken it from him yet, and he was starting to suspect that maybe they wouldn't after all, for whatever reason.

It was a short ride, or maybe it was long. He lost track of time. They were moving away from the ship, for sure, rapidly going away like it had purposefully insulted them. Maybe it had. He didn't know. He was on the ship's side, personally.

Maybe it took 15 minutes. Maybe it took less, maybe it took more. After that length of time, they stopped, and he didn't need to imagine to guess why. Another ship was in their immediate view. It was about the same size as the ship they had just departed, but it appeared to be newer. Polished to a shiner shade of black. All black. Black everywhere his eyes could see. Dark and intimidating.

He didn't want to board it, but as luck would have it, the two... officers? beckoned for him to stand up. He did. They beckoned for him to move. He did.

The boat stopped directly next to the door of the ship, which gradually opened. The entrance to the boat aligned with the door almost perfectly, although it rocked up and down a few inches or so every other second.

He stepped out. Watched where he was walking, of course. Looked down. Looked up. Tried to be careful, yet hasty, and somehow accomplished it.

The inside of this ship was much cleaner, but somehow less bright and definitely less welcoming. He stopped for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the difference in light, and when he did, he looked around to take in his surroundings. There wasn't much to see.

A moment later, a woman walked in. She was wearing neither a hood nor a pair of sunglasses, but looked as if the style would fit her naturally. She glared down at him as if he were a misbehaving child.

"Another one?" He didn't answer. Was he supposed to?

"Well?" Evidently he was.

"I guess," he replied, trying to smile. It didn't even bother appearing on his face.

"You'll go with the other one." The other one? Huh. Someone else? "In here." She grabbed his arm and sharply turned it, nearly breaking it in the process. He winced, but moved along as she dragged him.

"You're to stay here until you receive further instructions." That was all. Shoved him in, closed the door behind him. He stared at it. Blank, a shade of maroon, with a couple of small cracks running through its exterior.

He swallowed. Then:

"Rick?"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for 100 hits :)

Adam. By now he could recognize his voice anywhere. He froze, tensed up, exhaled, turned around.

There he was. Beautiful Adam. A rather bemused expression on his face; obviously he had under no circumstances been expecting him. Sitting on a bed; at least they had provided them that luxury.

They hadn't taken his camera. The sight of Adam's face triggered the memory of it, and another wave of relief washed over him. They hadn't taken it. His luck was slowly getting better.

It then occurred to him that it might be prudent to give him a response.

"Hi." He didn't know what else to say. So many questions came to mind, and he wasn't sure how many Adam would be able to answer.

"What are you doing here?" That was one of his questions.

"I -" He didn't know, to be honest. What was he doing here? Well. It was a long, very messy story.

He walked over. Sat down next to him. Stared at him; he stared back.

"I don't know."

There was hair falling in his eyes. He lifted up his hand, brushed it back. Still stared at him. He kept his hand palming the side of his forehead. Warm.

"Did you just get here?" Adam asked.

"Yeah." Rubbed his forehead with his thumb. Sure, he had wanted to see him again, but not like this. Moved his hand down to stroke his cheek.

"I've only been here about twenty minutes." He didn't seem too pleased about it. "They didn't do much to me. Just took me here."

"Who are they?" Took away his hand. Maybe he should know this by now.

"I can't be too sure -" He looked around at the room. "We're not being... spied on, are we?"

"Probably."

"Oh." Adam looked around some more. His eyes were wide, and there was terror reflected in them. "I can't see anything. But I don't know."

"Would you telling me get us killed, or something?"

"Well, I think you can guess who they are." He looked back at him. Leaned in; whispered, "Do you have your camera?"

"Yeah," he breathed back.

"Really? They didn't take it?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"Huh. Well, that's really good. Really good. Do they know you have it?"

"I'm not sure." He looked around. Were they really watching them in secret? Maybe they were turning up the volume at that second, straining to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I mean, if they didn't take it before, I'm thinking it's safe."

"Well, try to hide it from now on, too. Hide everything."

He stared directly at him. "Everything?"

Yep, Adam was serious. "Everything."

Well. Everything. This would be difficult. Maybe he shouldn't have touched his face.

"Is there anyone else here?" he asked, just as quietly as before.

"I haven't seen anyone since the alarm went off. They -" Adam stopped, maybe thinking of what to say, maybe forcing himself to talk. "We were all together on the ship, right? 'Cause we had practiced for if the alarm went off and so we knew what to do. But maybe that wasn't the best thing... They -" He turned his head again. "They boarded the ship. We didn't even notice them until it was too late. And they took some of us. Not all. Some."

"That's good, at least."

He looked back at him. "How?"

"Well. It's not like they didn't kill everyone. And now we've got them looking for us, probably."

"Oh." Either Adam didn't care about that fact, or he was too worried to. He took it as the latter.

"It'll all be fine in the end." That, at least, was something he could live by. It wasn't some fake, phony thing meant to inspire him, some extremely vague "it gets better" baloney that did not comfort him whatsoever. It was the truth. It would all be fine in the end. Hopefully.

Adam kept looking around. He reached his arm up again and grabbed his face, positioning him to look straight at him.

"Stop."

Adam didn't say anything in response, only held his gaze, his eyes still wide and alert.

"I know this all looks like we're gonna be dead soon, and our deaths will be the most disgusting processes ever thought of. But you know what it also looks like? A happy rescue from our good friends back at the ship, and we both leave without serious injury, and by that I mean we don't have limbs half hanging on to our bodies and blood pouring out of our mouths. It could honestly go either way. And worrying about the future and the worst case scenario isn't going to help us much at all."

Adam blinked. A second later, he said, "Yeah, you're right."

He wasn't too sure about that. Really, he had just said it to make Adam stop looking around. It was scaring him.

-

Time passed. Both of them had given up their frivolous and pathetic search for any hidden cameras and had lied down on the bed. Next to each other, unfortunately, although in their favor it was practically impossible not to assume that position.

It was a rather large room, but not overly so. At the same time, it felt cramped. The walls were white, but somehow the shadows cast on it made it seem much darker. There weren't any windows; the only source of light was the artificial one, the four light bulbs attached to the ceiling. The floor was covered by a thin grey carpet. There were no sources of food or drink in sight.

"Do you think they've forgotten about us?" Adam said. His voice was quiet again, only really audible to the both of them. He was lying against him, his head resting against his shoulder. It felt nice, somehow, even though it was incredibly cramped.

"I don't know." That was his answer to everything. Honestly, if the whole time they were forced to be in that room was spent like this, them lying next to each other, then it might well be worth it. And in that case, it was almost okay that they had been left alone.

 _Almost_. Yeah, right. It wasn't okay in the slightest.

"Why us? Why are we together?"

That was yet another one of his own questions.

"I don't know that either." Maybe he should just be quiet.

"Do they know? About us?"

That he was sincerely worried about. Did they in fact know that he and Adam were, well, together? It wasn't as if their relationship were horrendously illegal or anything - in fact, it wasn't illegal at all - but it could very well play a factor into why they were being kept together. Them, out of all the other possible duos on the ship... any two random people could have been chosen, really...

"I don't know," he said for what felt like the millionth time. "I really, really hope not. But..." He sighed quietly, and paused for a moment before speaking again. "It's highly probable."

Silence from Adam. Then: "Oh."

He had to say he agreed.

-

Some more minutes passed. They could have well been hours. Oddly enough, it didn’t affect either of them too much. After the initial shock and paranoia had worn off, and they had cuddled (there was no more appropriate term) next to each other, their surroundings and current situation started to feel a bit dulled. It was a strange feeling, almost as if everything that had happened were all just a horrible nightmare, and he had awakened next to Adam, and now everything was better.

That wouldn't be the last time that particular feeling would happen.

Tick tock, tick tock. There were no clocks in the room, and this was a good thing, as it probably would have driven them both crazy in more than one way. For now, they had to deal with the emptiness and the waiting. So much waiting. And, most aggravating of all, the lack of knowledge and sureness of what was going on. They were there, with each other, and that was it. No clue of where anyone else was. No clue if anyone else was there. Had they both gone crazy? Or had it just been him?

Maybe he had died and gone to... well, this sure wasn't heaven. A version of it, but without the bliss. The passage of time with no way to record it, an empty room with no one entering or daring to leave it, and his loved one by his side. Speaking of his loved one...

Adam hadn't spoken for a while. He gazed at him. He had closed his eyes; he was sleeping now. Breathing in and out, probably in a better place than where he was in reality.

He wished he could fall asleep, and never wake up, preferably. This wait for... whatever it was that they were waiting for was among the worst situations that he had been put into by far. He didn't want it anymore - that alone was for sure.

He was so thirsty. How long had been since he had last had a drink? Ages. And how long had it been since he had last had something to eat? Even longer. The morning seemed like an eternity ago.

Everything seemed like an eternity ago. Yesterday, the week before, when he had met Adam - at this point, he felt almost as if they had known each other for years. Maybe they had; that would account for their bizarre connection.

Ha. Not very funny at all.

How long would this take? He almost wished he did have a clock, or a watch of some sort, at least. So he could have some sense of reality, some reference to the rest of the world operating around him. All he had was the room and Adam.

And then the door opened. The quickest, most chilling sense of dread filled him immediately, and his eyes widened. His breathing quickened, too. What?

The same lady from before. Oh. He had almost wished that she had died. He sat up, causing Adam to fall onto the bed; he woke up.

He couldn't move. The lady walked over to him and grabbed him again. Adam quickly sat up.

"Hey, what are you -" His voice cracked. He stopped.

"You, come too." She pulled him quickly, as a sort of beckoning gesture. He winced; her grip was tight and relentless. Adam slowly stood up, looking almost hypnotized.

They left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind them. Outside, it could have been night or daytime - it was impossible to tell. It was dark just the same. Clean, white floors lay perpendicular to clean, white walls, stretching on for a while and twisting off into hallways. Had it been this big before?

They were going the other way, not to the entrance. Not a good sign.

She was still gripping him, and it was starting to hurt, but he didn't even open his mouth. His luck was running out now, and anything he said could have the potential to jeopardize it all for him and for Adam. He might as well be silent and follow as many orders as possible. Not that the lady had given him many orders; she seemed only to like to shout at them and grab hold of his arm.

They turned down a hallway to the left, which was identical to the last one. They turned to the right after that, and a right again, and then she stopped in front of a door. A clean, white door, just like everything else was perfectly clean and white.

"Stay," she said to both of them. She looked around, muttered something under her breath. Didn't move. Appeared a bit confused; reached into her pocket. Drew out keys and unlocked the door. It squeaked as it slid open across the floor.

He and Adam stared at each other with a diluted form of desperation.

She grabbed his arm again and shoved him in; Adam followed. There were a few chairs, a couple in the center of the room and a few shoved without care to the side.

She pointed to the ones in the middle. "Sit down."

Begrudgingly, they did so. Adam on the right, him on the left. They were quite uncomfortable plastic chairs. But who was he to complain about such a silly thing, especially given the circumstances?

The lady sat down at one of the other chairs, and she glared at them like some animal stalking its prey. They stared back in quite the opposite fashion.

"So," she said. "I'm assuming you have a lot of questions."

Neither of them opened their mouths.

"Well?" She wanted an answer.

"Yes," said Adam, his voice hoarse.

"Like what?"

"Like... why we're here."

"Here in the room? Or here in general?"

“Both.”

"I’ll answer that later. For now, we’ll just say that both of you have information we need."

Well then. That was understandable, in a twisted sort of way. He still wasn't sure why it was them, though, if retrieving information was the key goal here. After all, neither of them had even bothered to work on the first day out at sea.

"Now, I'm waiting for a couple of people, and we're going to talk to you. You're going to be as truthful as possible, otherwise we won't be quite as friendly. Got it?"

Not at all. He nodded regardless.

"Good." She stood up, glared down at both of them again, and left the room.

He swallowed. What was to happen? Who were the people coming? Stupid questions. He would find out eventually.

"Rick?" Adam was gazing at him. "What do you think of all this?"

What did he think? It was a disaster. He wanted to go back to bed.

"Remember what I told you earlier," he said, attempting to be optimistic. He physically couldn't smile, otherwise he would have tried to produce one. "It's all okay in the end."

"It's not okay, though. It's just getting worse and worse."

"That's 'cause it's not the end. The end is when we're out of this completely and we don't have to worry about hidden cameras or anything worse." A smile really would be productive. "Trust me."

He didn't think he could be trusted. He wasn't worth that much.


	9. Chapter Nine

\- 2017 -

Another appointment with Marissa. He had to follow up on the last one, of course, at Adam's bidding. Not that he wanted to, but hey, if it would please him he supposed that he could suffer through it again.

The last one hadn't been terribly bad, if the definition of "terribly" could be extended to "excruciating." Even then, it wasn't terrible in the regularly used sense. It was just uncomfortable, really, for him. That was something he would have to get over if he really wanted to work on helping himself.

Another appointment, though, tomorrow. Same day and time as last week, which made it a bit easier to remember. An hour long, talking about subjects he tried to cover up whenever he could in the rest of his daily life. Whatever. He was there to improve, right?

He made Adam coffee that morning. Small gestures of kindness like that were the least he could do for him. Adam accepted it with a smile and complimented its taste (rich and creamy, somehow. To be honest, he had no idea how he had accomplished that). Maybe he was lying. No, he probably didn't have the capacity in him to tell a lie.

He made himself a cup of coffee too. Why not.

Their anniversary was coming closer. It didn't seem like such an enjoyable venture after all, somehow. Maybe he was just a horrible person with no sense of reality anymore. Maybe he wasn't.

-

Marissa was sympathetic. She always was. Why was she sympathetic to him? It wasn't as if he deserved the sympathy at all. Adam deserved sympathy more than him, and he was perfect. Sympathy for being perfect, that was what he needed.

Sympathy for being perfect... perfect, sympathy...

Sleep maybe.

He couldn't go to sleep. He never could when he wanted to. Always awake, that was him, and rarely for a good reason. Usually it was because he was thinking, and not anything of value. Stuff about how perfect Adam was, and how much he wasn't. Usually it was worse than that, though.

Dark. Shadows enveloped the room, blocking everything out of sight. He wasn't meant to see anything anyway. It was so late, he should have gone to sleep hours ago. He wanted to have gone to sleep hours ago. So why wasn't he asleep?

His brain wouldn't shut up, that was why.

Maybe he should ask Adam how he went to sleep so quickly. He was out like a light most nights, save for the few when he had joined him in bouts of insomnia. He didn't know how he did it. How could anyone even go to sleep at all without going over the entire history and future of their life for an hour or so?

Maybe he was crazy. Yet another thing to bring up with Marissa.

He stared up at the ceiling without really looking at it. There was nothing to look at, anyway. All darkened. He just stared. Stared and stared and stared, that was all he was useful for.

He wanted to talk with Adam. Not about anything in particular, just talk. Talk about stuff. Nothing. Anything to take his mind off of, well, his mind. That wasn't going to happen easily, though, what with Adam being fast asleep. He was so sick of waking him up. Every night he had something to worry about, or another stupid panic attack over an even more stupid nightmare, or anything else that came to mind. Waking him up for every single little thing. Maybe he should learn to take care of himself for once.

_Shut up already._

He got up and walked out of the room, down the hallway, trying not to make too much noise with his footsteps; they softly squeaked anyway. Good thing Adam was a sound sleeper as well as a quick one.

Everything was dark. He would turn on a light, but with it being the dead of night that probably wasn't the best idea. Didn't want to wake up Adam. He needed sleep, goddammit. Both of them needed sleep so badly.

He wasn't going to sleep; he couldn't. Instead, he walked to the living room. There was a couch there, not the infamous couch where he spent much of his time but a different couch. Smaller. Stuffed in the corner, not used nearly as much as the larger one. Right next to a window. He sat down on it and curled himself up in a ball as best he could. His heart was pounding again (it never stopped) and he felt terrible, almost unsafe.

He looked out the window and curled up even more. The stars were bright tonight, weren't they. The moon was pretty bright too. And pretty in general. The whole night sky was lit up; it was clear tonight. No wonder he couldn't go to sleep, there was a whole party going on out in the universe.

Somehow, that comforted him.

He snuggled down into the couch until there was barely any more room to move. Smashed his face against a pillow. Wanted to scream. Wanted to fall asleep, too. 

His second wish was granted.

-

"You should have told me."

He couldn't have. He had debated the topic countless times, and the verdict was that he wouldn't disturb him. He didn't want to. He wanted him to have sleep. Why couldn't he realize that?

"Sorry."

Just one full night of sleep would be nice. Just one. Maybe things would change then. His sleeping schedule would somehow get back on track to how it normally should be (or close enough; the ideal goal was practically impossible) and maybe his nightmares would diminish, or even cease. No, that definitely was too fantastical a wish.

"You know I don't mind it. And it would have helped you. I want you to feel good, you know."

He did know. He knew so much. He just didn't wholly believe it.

"And you really didn't have to sleep on the _couch._ "

"I fell asleep there." He wasn't sure why they were arguing. Were they even arguing? They never had real arguments. Only squabbles. Maybe this was a squabble.

"Why did you go there in the first place?"

He wished this interrogation would end. It wasn't helping anything, and he wasn't sure that Adam was really listening to what he said.

"Because I couldn't fall asleep in our bed."

"Why?"

"If I knew I would be sleeping great, wouldn't I? No problems. If I knew then I wouldn't be here." He hated this. So much.

Adam gazed at him almost in pity, and then sighed and looked down at the floor. "It's not all my fault, is it? Did I hurt you?"

_..._

_Uh._

His mind had gone blank, suddenly failing to relay any information. _What?_

"What - I, I -"

He stared at him. _Was that..._

Adam looked back at him. "Just asking." He didn't look convinced of anything, but what was he supposed to be convinced of?

"Adam..." He had no clue what to say, how to respond to that.

"Rick?"

"I..." He blinked. "No. Not at all. Why are you..."

"What?"

"Why are you thinking that way?"

"Well, it's got to be _something_." He still didn't sound convinced. "And I was thinking, since you got up and slept here, that..."

"Adam..." Blank.

He narrowed his eyes. "What? Give me a straight answer. I'm sick of this."

He was scared. This wasn't Adam. Had someone replaced him? Maybe. He peered at him, his eyes squinted. No, that was definitely him.

Adam noticed. "What? You're acting weird, you know."

He stopped squinting. "You're acting weirder."

"I'm not."

"You are, though."

"Oh, shut up." And he walked away.

He didn't know what he had done. Was sleeping on the couch really so bad? It wasn't his fault. The stars had lured him to sleep.

-

"I just don't know what he's thinking and..."

He stopped. His voice was quiet, his throat sore.

"And what?"

"I... I don't know. I guess it scares me a bit. I mean, he's my husband and I don't know what's up with him."

"Does anything seem wrong with him? Like, any mood differences you've noticed?"

"That's the thing, though." He stared down at the ground, attempting to concentrate; for some reason that was a struggle when he was making eye contact with her. "I don't know how to notice him. I feel like I've... almost like I've lost something with him. And I hate to say that. I don't even know if I'm right or not."

She was silent. Looked serious. Maybe he had said that wrong.

"Not that our love's gone or anything." He had to clarify. "Not like that at all. I'm just scared something's going to happen. Or that something's already happened and I don't know about it. Or how to tell."

"Something like... what?"

"I don't know." Didn't know how to express it in words. 'Everything' was always a good answer for what he was worried about, but it wasn’t entirely appropriate. "Just... something. I don't know how I could see that sort of thing. I'm..." He paused again. "I'm always worrying about myself, and stuff, and everything dealing with my problems. But not with him. I don't even know if he has problems."

"And you're worried mostly because of this morning?"

It was as if she were psychic. He didn't half doubt that. "Yeah. Kind of."

"Oh? Why else?"

"I don't know. I guess it's just one of those things I worry about. I worry about everything." Okay, so maybe it was appropriate.

"Well, I'm glad you're bringing it up with me." Miles of smiles. He wasn't sure there was anything to be happy about.

-

"I'm not mad at you."

That was news to him. He had seemed rather angry when he had last seen him, and he hadn't even said goodbye when he had left for his appointment. "Not mad" was the exact opposite of the phrase he would have used to describe him.

"Really?" His voice was quiet again. Maybe he was still in the mood he got in when he was talking to Marissa. Quiet. Apologetic. Feeling weird, basically. Mostly quiet.

"No, not at all. I guess I'm just..." He sighed. "Sorting it all out."

"Huh." Yep, still quiet. He didn't really want to be around him, either.

Adam looked at him strangely. He didn't like that either. "Are you feeling alright?"

Not in the slightest, and he knew it. He wished so much that he would stop asking those stupid rhetorical questions. He shook his head.

"Why not?"

Didn't want to talk. Sat down. Lied down, really. Crashed down. Whatever. He was on the couch, and it was moderately comfortable. Rolled over. Didn't face him.

"I told you I'm not mad at you. And I wasn't mad earlier."

Still didn't say anything. Didn't feel like it. Closed his eyes. Adam walked off, probably in exasperation. That was what he should have said. _I'm not mad at you, but I sure as hell am exasperated with you._

He was exasperated with himself, too.

-

They ended up having sex that night, if anyone could believe it. He sure didn't see it coming. But it was nice. Maybe it was to make up for him and make him happy. It did, somewhat.

Regardless, they ended the night with Adam lying on top of him. Naked, both of them. Adam kissed the tip of his nose.

"I swear I'll love you to the end of the Earth."

"Cheesy." He kissed him back. Not on his nose.

"I can't be anything _but_ cheesy."

"I know. What was that one thing you said once? I love you, darling, you're the one thing in my life that makes me completely happy, blah blah blah?"

"That was our _wedding_ , and _you_ said that."

"Oh. I figured someone did."

They both laughed. It felt good to laugh. He hadn't done it in years, probably. Who cares if it was over something stupid.

Adam kissed his nose again. Sure loved doing that. "Anyway, I don't call you darling."

"You should start doing that."

"Nah. That's your thing."

"What, _no._ I didn't put a copyright on the word 'darling' or anything."

"I bet you did. In secret."

"Secret? When do I have time to file copyrights in secret?"

"You astound me every day." Adam kissed him on the lips again. It was slightly dirty, and involved his tongue.

"Gross," he said when the kiss had ran its course.

"Just like you." Adam laughed.

"Shut up."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll call the cops on you. You'll have to go to jail naked. And then you'll regret everything you've ever said."

"Including 'I'll love you until the end of the Earth?'"

"Especially that."

Sleep came easy that night. Easier than before, at least. They didn't actually end up going to sleep until later than usual. Oh well.

Yawn. Another day on the rise.

-

It might have been nothing more than a harmless joke, but him starting to forget things like the details of his wedding was worrying him. Just like everything else worried him. But this was different, somehow, because he had always had a moderately good memory (better than most people, really) and by all means he should have remembered something like that. But everything was forming a blur now, fading into the background. Maybe it was starting to be too long since their wedding.

He wanted to relive that day again. Every single second of it. It was the best day of his life by far, and certainly the happiest. Would that level of joy ever come back? Probably not.

And now he could barely remember it. That was aggravating.

-

"Anniversary, babe."

Next week. He sighed. It would be lovely, too lovely for him. What he really deserved was a trip to some wasteland, without Adam, where he could die in a hole and rot away in the depths of the earth.  

No, he shouldn't say stuff like that. Adam wouldn't like it.

Life was a blur, and he was caught up in a whirlwind and couldn't see out of it. There probably wasn't a way out.

Sleep more. Needed more sleep, got more sleep. He was sleeping in more than usual, and later too, which probably wasn’t good for him. Definitely not good for him. Adam wouldn't like it; Adam probably already knew. Adam.

He needed to take up photography again. Not wanted, needed. And that wasn't someone else's suggestion, either. He really wanted to do it. It had always been such a joy to go outside and just take pictures and capture the beauty of the world. Where had that spark gone?

It probably flew away when he got locked up in the hell hole that was his current life. Just like every other great thing had departed from him, except for Adam. Hopefully he would be around forever.

Ha. Not a good topic to think about. What was good? Photography? Anniversary. He could combine those. He was going to; he had promised Adam and promised himself. He was going to grab that contraption and blow people's minds again. Mostly Adam's. He was the only one who ever saw them, apart from himself.

He gave up. Lied on the couch again, cried a bit and tried to hide it. Nearly toppled over to lie on the floor, but decided against it. After all, the floor was dusty and uncomfortable, and he was bound to never get up. Not good for him, but then again, nothing was.

He was sick of this. But he was stuck, and that was a miserable situation to be in for anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emo little man


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter ://

****\- 2016 -

Before their wedding, they had had a rehearsal. This was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but their version of it was quite different from the norm. 

For instance, usually a wedding rehearsal involved extensive planning, with the whole cast and crew at full attention. Everything fit to a T, and everything was scripted. There was often more than one rehearsal as well, and all was intricate and well prepared.

Not for them. They didn't apply a single one of those customs to their rehearsal, not at all. Not even the full cast and crew. Especially not that.

It was just the two of them, one afternoon about a week before the wedding when they got bored and decided to get the whole thing over with and done. Besides, they did need practice. Neither of them had been grooms before, so practice was most definitely something they needed.

It was at a church, the one downtown that had been there for years upon years but still shined like it had been newly built. It was the only place they could think of, really. Everyone could get there easily and it was inside. No chance of rain was forecasted, but it was better to be safe than drenched.

So it was just them. Afternoon on a Thursday, the ideal time. Completely alone. Thankfully it was unlocked, and they walked in just fine. It was empty, which was a pro and a con. Definitely a pro, actually.

Their steps were entirely audible, bouncing off the walls and high ceilings and echoing back to them. Everything seemed to exist in a lower form of silence, one that could only exist in a place like that. Still. Breathing alone almost felt sacrilegious.

They walked in and down to the end of the pews, and they just stared.

"Hopefully there will be more people than this," said Adam, joking.

"Maybe," he replied, not joking.

"Oh, come on." Knew he wasn't joking. "At least our parents will be here."

He laughed at that. That was one of the many reasons why he had asked him to marry him. He had a good sense of humor, even if it wasn't always immediately prominent.

"So, how is this going to start?" he said, abruptly changing the subject. "It's not like we have a father of the bride or anything."

"We don't even have a bride."

"I'm really aware of that, thanks. So, what? Should we even bother with the whole, you know, walking down the aisle with our dads or whatever?"

Adam wrinkled his nose. "Nah."

"No. Okay. So what do we do instead?"

"Um." He looked around. Up at the ceiling, for some reason. Then back at him. "Honestly, I think we should just walk down. Together, both of us."

"Redundant." Sarcastic.

"Shut up. But really, we're trying to make this as simple as possible, right? So we could totally speed it up by not having the... rituals."

"Dude, this whole thing is a ritual."

"Well, there are mini-rituals. So we could cut out some of them."

"You just don't want one of us to be the bride in this relationship."

"Okay, that too. But what do you think?"

"Whatever you think is fine with me." That was true. He didn't care much about the little details anyway.

Adam looked as if he were about to walk down the aisle, but stopped himself, then reached out his hand to him and smiled. He took it.

They walked together. It was a long way down, longer than he thought, but he felt oddly content with its length. And content in general, really. There was no need to be nervous about this.

They reached the end of the aisle and let go of each other's hands. They could see the whole forefront of the church there, and it was gorgeous. He probably wouldn't be looking at it too often the next time he would walk up there, though.

"All right," said Adam, breaking the silence. "So now we're here. Now, what are we going to say?"

"I don't know. What order does it all go in?" All he knew were his vows. Man, had he practiced those to death.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of two faithful souls... Are we faithful?"

"Depends on which context."

"Huh. Okay. Or maybe our names go there somewhere. So we're gathered here today to witness the union of Adam and Rick... blah blah blah... who are wonderful..."

"How long is this gonna go on for?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. We should have thought of this before we got here."

"Probably."

"Yeah. So. We have that. And then maybe some other stuff."

"That's specific."

"Shut up, I don't know."

"I thought you've been to weddings before."

"Yeah, but I didn't take notes or anything."

"Google exists too..."

"Okay, I get it. Shush. Um, if anyone objects to this good and faithful union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I object."

"Shut up. ...Why?"

"You hog the blankets sometimes and it's really annoying."

Adam grinned. When he continued, it sounded like he were trying not to laugh.

"It's supposed to be for other people, you know."

"Where does it say that? It says 'if anyone.' Not 'if any of the guests.'"

"It's implied. Anyway, I doubt anyone will. So we can skip that part, really."

"I bet that's illegal."

"Probably."

They were quiet for a moment. The lack of sound from their voices made the place seem peaceful again. It was almost captivating.

"Vows then?" said Adam.

"Do I have to say them out loud?"

"Well, that's sort of the point of it all -"

"I meant right now."

"Oh. Still yes."

He sighed. He was planning on doing it anyway. "Okay, okay. Dearest Adam, love of my life, star of my dreams, beautiful rainbow shining over the house that is my soul."

"Cut that part."

"Rude. I, Sir Rick, take thee, Sir Adam, to be my lawfully wedded wife."

"I'm gonna kick you out of this church."

"Good, it's creepy here. There are probably spiders living up in the corner of those windows." He indicated the windows, which were high above them and heavily shadowed.

"They're not on the guest list."

"Good. So, where was I?"

"Out of the church."

"Oh, yeah. So, my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to kick out of church, to throw up on when I'm sick."

"I think I won't even allow you to be within fifty feet of here."

"Aw, are your feelings hurt?"

"Yes. Go on."

He sighed again. "Until death do us part. My death is probably coming pretty soon."

"You got that right. Okay, my turn."

"Go on." He looked at him expectantly.

"I, Adam, take you, Rick, to be my lawfully wedded husband... Ugh, this is so long."

"Say it _aaaall._ "

" _Okaaaay._ I don't want to say 'lawfully wedded.'"

"Then don't."

"Good. I, Adam, take you, Rick, to be my husband... yeah, that does sound better. To have and to hold from this day forward. What does that even mean?"

"You're going to hold me captive in some dungeon, I don't know. Who decided the wording, anyway?"

"Me. For better or for worse... mostly for worse... for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, that's your favorite part. To love and to cherish. Ugh, do I have to?"

"Yes."

"If I must. From this day forward until death do us part."

"You could maybe work on not sounding like you're gonna be shot if you don't say it all."

"I don't."

"Yes you do. And you say I need more passion in it. You're the one who sounds dead."

"I could just say I'm only marrying you for the tax benefits."

"Uh huh, like you care about that."

Quiet again.

"And then what?" he said.

"What?"

"After the vows. What do we do?"

"Oh. Um... give each other rings. Speaking of, we don't have a ring bearer."

"I am not hiring some bratty kid to hold our rings for us."

"Especially since we don't have any other staff at present. Well, we'll have our own rings."

"Good. I'm taking both of them."

"No you're not."

"They were expensive."

"Too bad. Do we have to say anything when we do that?"

"Uhh. With this ring, I wed thee. Or something along those lines."

"I thee wed."

"Same thing. Who wrote this? Shakespeare?"

"Probably. And then guess what?"

"What?"

"Kissy time."

"Well, when you say it like _that_ it sounds so appealing. You wanna practice?"

There was a glint in Adam’s eye. It was small, but it was there. "Yeah."

"In the presence of God and all the beautiful angels?"

"If they haven't seen it yet they haven't been paying attention to us at all."

"Maybe. Anyway, they're gonna see it anyway."

They leaned in and kissed each other. Nothing huge and extravagant, but not a little peck on the cheek either. A kiss. The real one would be so much better.

They broke apart. "And then we're married."

"We sure are," said Adam. "Well, this is exciting." He was smiling.

"That sounds sarcastic."

"It isn't." He looked around again. "Anything else you want to do here?"

"No, not really." He looked around too. "Unless you want to practice going to our ready-made reception."

"The one that definitely won't have pizza?"

"If there's pizza we're going to get a divorce. Right after our wedding. The shortest marriage ever."

"Funny how you're so against it here but you make me buy it every other day at home."

"No one has pizza at a wedding. You know who has pizza at their wedding? People who don't love themselves."

" _What?_ "

"Just kidding. But I don't want one."

"Okay, okay, we won't."

He didn't want them either. He was the one who had protested them in the first place. Their jokes operated on a singular level on which only they existed.

They left the church. There was nothing more for them to do there, anyway. Maybe talk more and make ridiculously stupid jokes to one another. All they were doing was wasting time, really.

But oh, they had so much time together that they could waste.

-

"You're sure you have everything planned out? And ordered? And everything?"

"Yes, yes. I bought everything we need last week."

"Okay, just checking. You got the cake?"

"Yes, even before you begged me fifteen more times to buy it. Remember what I say every time?"

"You did."

"Uh huh. I did. It is a normal cake."

"Like a birthday party cake?"

"Shut up, you know the answers to these."

"Just messing with you. What about, like, forks and stuff? You got those?"

"Everyone has to live with sporks. It was the cheapest option."

"Yeah, cheap in both senses of the word. You sure this isn't a birthday party?"

"Go away."

"Okay, okay."

He walked off laughing. Poor Adam. He really was terribly annoying with his jokes and his worries that were not entirely disguised as diluted forms of humor. Oh well.

He would have to get used to that. A whole lifetime together. Boy, were they going to get on each other's nerves.

Many, many years were ahead of them. So many. Decades. It was weird to think about.

Good, though. After all they had been through, they deserved it.

-

Night time. Dark. They were warm, though. Cuddled up next to each other, sharing body heat and a blanket to cover them. It wasn't horrifically cold out, it being the middle of April, but they liked it anyway.

"Now you've got me worrying," said Adam. "About if I missed something that we need to have. Like napkins or something."

"Did they come with the sporks?"

"Probably. In fact, I think they did. Good thinking."

"Lucky guess. What about drinks?"

"We got it."

"Water?"

"That and juice. And sodas, I think."

"I'm telling you, it's a birthday party."

"No one said it had to be the fanciest thing in the world. Plus, I thought we were all done with stupid traditions and rituals. Remember? How we're barely doing anything by the book?"

"Sure we are. We have a church, rings, vows, reception, and cake. Plus guests. It couldn't be more by the book."

"Yes it could."

"Well, it could. But I think you're worrying too much."

"You're telling me."

He had a point. There really wasn't a moment in his life when he wasn't worrying about some stupid, useless thing. Like if the house would flood if he left a faucet on for more than ten seconds at a time. Or if they needed to pay any more bills, right after he paid as many as he could find.

"I'm sorry."

He was, truly. He said that far too often, especially to Adam. He was probably sick of it. And of him. But he was sincere.

"It's all good."

Hopefully.

"I think really, if we have the essential stuff definitely there and in place, we don't have to worry about the small things."

He swallowed. "Yeah. True."

"We both do that quite a bit, don't we?"

Laughed quietly. "Yep."

"That's too bad." Quiet.

He wasn't sure what he had meant by that. Too bad that they were worrywarts? Too bad that their marriage plans weren't going as smoothly as they might have hoped? Too bad that their relationship was already being ruined?

No.

He should stop worrying about worrying.

-

"Adam?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"Oh. I love you too."

Silence. He didn't need to say any more than that to him, but he kind of wanted to. Expand on those three words, maybe. Construct a much longer, more detailed and intricate sentence. Express his love somehow other than in the most clichéd way possible.

He didn't want to speak again, though. He would just sound needy then. And a bit cheesy. He was a soppy romantic, and nothing more. Plus, Adam already knew very, very well that he loved him deeply.

Did he? Hopefully he did.

He stared up at the ceiling, as he always did and always would, pretty much every night. His heart was racing again, but not overly quickly; sort of like it was driving along a racetrack at a pace that wasn't as fast as normal, but faster than if it were going on an average car ride. Wait, that comparison was weird.

It was fast. That was all that mattered. It went up a whole lot when he wasn't around Adam, for some reason. But even when he was with him, it was still fast.

Maybe he should get that checked out. Dehydrated, probably.

He wasn't too sure about that.

There he went, worrying about silly things again. Would he ever stop? Probably not. He would probably be stuck like this forever. Some perfect life with Adam. He had already ruined that, and they weren't even married yet.

He turned over. _Shut up, brain. It's sleep time._

His brain did not agree with that order. Talk, talk talk. Chit chat. A constant conversation with no one, or perhaps a billion people at once, running in the background. Ugh. Always at night.

_Adam? I love you._

He sighed. Maybe someday he could say it whenever he wanted and not feel totally awkward. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i m sorry i had to make it emo again :///////


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a bit of explicit violence

\- 2015 -

She came back, and this time she had a couple of guards at her side. That was what they could only be described as: guards. "Men" was too nice a term; they were in a sort of uniform similar to the ones worn by the crew on the ship, but there were differences; their uniforms were of a crisper material, black, and more heavy-duty, and altogether the guards were definitely more formidable in appearance. Plus, they had handguns.

The guns scared him the most. He eyed them as they walked closer, looked up at the guards' faces, and then back down at their weapons. Those were never a sign of peace, and quite often a sign of hostility.

He didn't look over at Adam, but he figured he was probably thinking something along the same lines as that.

The two guards walked forward. They stood by the lady; she didn't seem too afraid of them at all. Rather nonchalant, in contrast. She sat down at the same chair as before.

"Alright. I'm back." He wished she would stop trying to be her faux brand of cheery. It was more terrifying than if she were straight and harsh with them.

She stared at them. They gazed back.

Silence. She had brought a clipboard and a pen with her, and she positioned them comfortably on her crossed knees. She looked entirely relaxed and at ease with her job. Ha.

Lucky.

"Okay, gentlemen," she said, her politeness sounding too forced. "I'll be asking you a few questions today. It might take a while, it might not. Hopefully you'll cooperate, and everything will go smoothly. If not... well, that's why they're here." She indicated the guards. "So, let's start, shall we?"

"Why are we here?" said Adam abruptly.

She blinked in apparent confusion. "Sorry?"

"Oh, don't act like you didn't see that question coming a mile away. Why are we here?"

This was interesting. Adam, who had been so lovely and kind to him, had a darker sarcastic side. Oddly, it made him all the more endearing.

"I'm not going to tolerate you being rude to me -"

"And I'm not going to tolerate you holding us captive for hours for no good reason. Yet I've stuck up with it. And now I just want the answer to what I think is a very simple question."

To be honest, Adam looked quite terrifying at that moment. There was a slight sneer on his face, and his eyes were narrowed and filled with what was unquestionably hatred.

"Because we took you here," said the lady, her voice sugar sweet with a touch of acid.

"I meant why are we here. Me and Rick. Specifically."

He had been wondering that too, to be honest, from the moment he had been thrown into the room with Adam. Why them? Maybe she would answer that. Maybe not.

At first she said nothing. Shifted in her seat, looked up at the guards. Then:

"Tell me. Why are we in this war?"

Avoiding the question. He had guessed that she would. He looked over at Adam, not sure if he would answer the question or not. It could go any way, really.

"Because you've tried to destroy the government?" Both, and neither. He really was the master of surprising him.

The lady laughed. "Be more specific."

"I don't see why I have to."

"Because I told you to," she said with a tone akin to her speaking to a five-year-old.

"Because SBM thinks they're the best?"

"Closer." Her eyes lit up in a way that he didn't like at all. Sort of gleaming with power and a touch of her own personal brand of humor. She was enjoying herself.

Adam slouched back in his chair in a defiant sort of manner. Stared up at her. "Because somehow we're a threat?"

“Let me ask you this. What rank do you hold?”

 _Not an answer,_ he thought to himself. He wouldn't dare say that out loud.

"Me?" To that, Adam had a tone of surprise. "Nothing. Just a cadet. I don't perform any of the regular jobs."

"I see. And you?" Directed at him.

"I don't have anything," he said, which was pretty much the truth. "I'm not an officer at all."

"You aren't?"

"No."

"I see." Again. "Why is it you instead of someone else? Probably another one of your questions. Well. You've just answered that as well." She shook her head in disapproval. "You're really not getting it. Oh well. The reason you two are here is because you're useless."

Ouch. That hurt.

Adam sat up again, his eyes still narrowed. "What?"

"Well, it's true." Didn't sound too affected by it. "Neither of you hold a particularly high position. This one doesn't even have a job." She sharply turned and pointed to him, and his heart momentarily leapt in fear. "And you're a marine biologist."

"That's not _useless._ "

"It's not necessary, either. We assume that neither of you will be greatly missed from the ship. You kind of have to wonder why you're there in the first place." Acid tone of voice.

"Because they invited me to be there," Adam said.

"Yes, but given the choice, you would rather not participate in the war at all, wouldn't you?"

"I couldn't tell you, because I'm here." His sarcasm was starting to scare him now.

"I think you would. So that's why you're here."

"And what about him?" Adam gestured to him. He straightened up just slightly and, despite the fact that he desperately didn’t want to, stared right into her eyes.

"Him?" She looked at him icily. "I shouldn't even have to elaborate on that."

Honestly, he didn't much care what she thought. He also had been invited to be on the ship, and that was good enough for him.

Still an insult, though. He continued to stare at her, still not saying a word.

"Well, I think that's pretty rude." Adam again. He _really_ didn't like her. Obviously. He didn't like her either, but Adam clearly loathed her. He wondered why.

She didn't respond. Wrote something down on her clipboard in short, scrunched writing. Stopped, looked up again. Seemed at ease, and at the same time seemed on the brink of exploding at them.

"I think," she said, "the answer to all your questions is that we don't like you. At all. The end." She set her clipboard down on the floor and sat up. Gestured to the guards; they came forward in a tight group and she muttered something indistinguishable to them. He and Adam looked at each other; Adam, while still looking defiant, had a touch of fear in his eyes. Understandable. He shared it.

They broke their gaze. The two guards stared at both of them for a moment, and then walked swiftly towards them. He swallowed. This was not at all going how he had hoped it would.

They split off, one walking over to stand by Adam and one to stand by him. The one next to him was so close he was practically breathing on his neck. Still, though, they hadn't said a word to either of them since they had entered the room.

Weird.

The guard tapped him on the neck. He jumped and looked up at him.

He gestured for him to stand up; he complied, his legs shaking. Actually, his whole body was shaking inwardly and outwardly. He wondered if it were noticeable or not.

The guard then gripped his arm in much the same way as the lady had, and shoved him over to her. He nearly tripped, but found his composure and walked over to her. Turned around slowly; stared at him in confusion, but didn't say a word.

Adam was still sitting there. He stared up at the lady, not even chancing a look at the guard standing beside him. His gaze was defiant, but somehow he could tell that he wasn't even close to feeling the same on the inside. Maybe it looked too forced. His hands were clenched, too. No, he was definitely scared.

He should do something now that he was up here. He would run away, but there was nowhere to go. Or call someone, but there was no way of reaching anyone. Or at least do something about the lady and the guards. No one was talking. Why was no one talking?

He shivered. He had never been more fearful in his life, really. This was dead serious.

He looked over at the lady too. She was still oddly smiling, for some reason. Just a hint of a grin, but it was there. Was she finding pleasure in this?

Probably. He wondered what her parents thought of her. Maybe she had killed them. He didn't doubt it.

Finally she glanced over at him and spoke, her voice still annoyingly sweet.

"Now, you are going to stand here, and you are going to watch what happens to snooty little guys who think they're smarter than us."

He swallowed again; his mouth was completely dry. He broke her gaze and glanced over at Adam, whose eyes were wide in apprehension of what was to come.

The guard next to him gave her a curt nod and walked to Adam to join the other. Adam looked up at them shakingly; they barely acknowledged him.

And then one of them punched Adam in the jaw. It was quick, almost too quick, and he had barely any time to realize it had happened when he heard Adam cry out in pain. His eyes widened; Adam staggered back and took a deep breath before the other guard punched him, this time at his left cheekbone. The first guard jabbed him at his nose, and the other threw a punch to his ear.

He stood immobile, his mouth hanging open as he took the scene in. He wanted to move, but he couldn't. Shock. He felt suddenly dizzy.

A small amount of blood trickled down Adam's face and dripped off his chin; he stared at his attackers wildly, but still didn't say a word. Not a word.

He gaped at them in horror as well, but didn't glance at Adam - he couldn't now. He could hear himself breathing heavily, but somehow didn't feel it at all.

The guards looked at each other; they nodded, and the one on Adam's right reached down to grab his gun.

He yelped; they didn't hear him.

The guard smiled briefly and raised the gun up, and brought it down, hitting the side of Adam's head. He yelled, and he and his chair fell over, splattering blood everywhere. His eyes looked dazed; he was barely conscious. The guard set his gun down by his side again and picked the chair up, and sat Adam atop it. He stared at them, and it seemed to him like he wasn't staring at all.

He wanted the life back in his eyes. Please.

The other guard reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small, deadly looking knife. He stared in horror, gripping the edge of the table as hard as he could, and a wild thought flew through his mind: How was this scene was going to end?

The guard leaned in closer to Adam, who didn't move. He drew the knife closer to him - very close - and slowly cut a slice right in the middle of his left cheek. A drop of blood trickled down and quickly dropped, staining Adam's shirt.

He felt like he was falling - or suffocating - or dying. Even that would be better than this.

The guard lowered the knife to Adam's neck, and sliced it right in the middle - a thin slice, not enough to kill him. A line of blood appeared and started trickling down Adam's neck and collarbone. He raised the knife and sliced his other cheek, and a spot on his face directly by his right ear. Adam did nothing but give him a blank stare. His face was growing paler as more and more blood dripped out of him. The guard sliced a thin and crude line diagonally across his forehead, and slowly put the knife back in his pocket.

Slowly. Ever so slowly. Adam's face was so pale, and it looked as if he could barely see anymore.

Somehow, in the midst of the great deal of shock that he was experiencing, he wondered if this would be the end of the interrogation session; if they would have the smallest ounce of compassion that would allow them to set the pair of them finally free.

And, oddly and graciously enough, that was exactly what happened.

-

Adam was barely conscious after that, but they let him go. Back to that ridiculous empty room. The lady took them back, not saying a thing, certainly not giving any sort of explanation. Shut the door on them.

Step by step, he walked Adam back to the bed, and let him slowly lie down on it. He sat at the edge of the bed and said nothing, partly to let Adam get used to the situation, and partly because nothing came to mind.

Adam had his eyes closed, but was still thankfully breathing. He couldn't imagine how he would be if that situation had ended differently. How his breathing would be so very different.

He brushed his hair, soaked and contaminated with blood, back from his forehead, much like he had at first when they had met each other in this room. How long ago that had been.

"You need a hospital," he said to him. Whispered it, really. He doubted he could ever talk louder than that. Adam didn’t respond; he hadn't expected him to.

"I doubt there's one here, though, or if they would even treat you." He laughed at that. It was one of the least funny things in the world.

Adam made a strange noise with his throat.

"Shh." He brushed his forehead again. "Adam..."

He really did need a doctor, and badly. What could he do? He looked around; there were a couple of rags lying on the floor by a corner. Dirty or not, they would work.

He got up and grabbed them, and sat back down again. He set one rag on his lap, and he pressed the other to Adam's forehead.

Adam opened his eyes. They were still somewhat glossy, but much less than they were before. Good.

"I don't know what's going to happen," he said quietly. "But... maybe there's still hope." He sighed. "After all, they didn't..." His voice trailed off.

"Kill me?" Adam murmured.

The words sent yet another sharp pain down his chest. He swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah." Barely a breath.

"Yeah. And they're not going to do that. Ever. I'll make sure it doesn't happen?"

"How?"

"I don't know." He turned the rag over to a cleaner area. "But I am not letting you die."

He seemed to be in a somewhat numb state. Shock, probably. Definitely. Very much normal for his current circumstances. He barely noticed it, really. More focused on Adam. Adam had to have been in a far worse state of shock than he was.

"Are you bleeding anywhere else?" So quiet.

"No." Adam sounded strained. It probably hurt to talk, yet he did. Strange guy he was. Brave, though. So very brave.

"Okay." He held the rag to his forehead, pressed it down just slightly. Firmly. Hopefully it would stop the bleeding.

"Anything broken, you think?" Had to keep him awake, at least.

"I don't know." Oh.

"Just lie down." He was so quiet, it was a wonder he could hear him. "Or stay lying down. Don't get up until someone from our ship comes to get us. Who knows, maybe they're here now, beating those guys up."

"I should've done something."

He raised his eyebrows. Stared at him, blankly, confusedly, and a little offended. He did _not_ just say that.

"What?"

"I should've -" He stopped. Closed his eyes.

"Don't talk," he said immediately. "Shh. No, there wasn't anything you could have done."

Quiet. Good.

"If anything, I should have done something. But it was so fast that it was over and done with before you could realize it was happening."

Still quiet.

"And who cares if you're an officer or whatever. This stuff happens. And you got out of it just fine."

Quiet. Then: "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

For the first time in what seemed like decades, he smiled.

"I love you too."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a very long while! I went back to college and I didn't have wifi for a week...anyway, enjoy. or don't enjoy. because this chapter is intense. I feel bad just editing it

\- 2017 -

Adam still had scars on his face from where the guards had cut him with the knife. They were barely noticeable, as the cuts were very slim, but when he looked at him, when he kissed his face, he could tell. He could feel them, inwardly and outwardly.

It hurt him, too, possibly even more than they hurt Adam. That was pure evidence of what they had gone through, why he was suffering now and had been suffering so much since, right in front of him. Right on his husband, whom he would see and be with for the rest of his life. It was as if they were mocking him, really.

But it didn't hurt him as much as it could have. It did, but not as much as it could. Definitely not as much. Besides, whenever he kissed Adam's face he was usually quite happy to do so. And that was nice.

Adam didn't seem to care about the scars; he didn't seem to care about anything that had happened, really. He would have been insulted by it if he didn't love him so much. It almost made him wonder - no, wonder wasn't the strongest word for what he felt, what he thought. "Worry" wasn't good, either. Caused him to have nightmares...that was close enough. He wasn't sleeping, but his mind was in such stress about it that he might as well have not been awake.

He was worried, as he always was. Was it all in his mind? It probably wasn't. Probably. Adam had reassured him many times that it wasn't at all. _He had gone through that whole experience too,_ he had said, _and it had been a horrific thing, and it was more than normal for him to be traumatized by it._ Maybe not to his extent, though. What if that was all in his head too?

He closed his eyes. Tried to breathe. Was finding it difficult. "Adam?"

Adam didn't answer. Adam was at work. Stupid, stupid him.

\- 2015 -

About an hour later, the bleeding had stopped. Adam had dozed off, and he was happy because of it. Well, not happy, but somewhat hopeful. Adam needed the sleep, badly, so rest was good.

He would have liked to rest as well, but there was a knock on the door. He sat up quickly, and his heart started pounding again.

He turned towards the door. It opened. A man, one he hadn't seen before, strode into the room.

"What do you want?" His voice was still quiet, and he hated it. It made him sound weak.

The man gazed at him, and he beckoned for him to come closer.

"No, I'm not. What are you going to do?"

The man shook his head. "We're not going to hurt you," he said. His voice was deep, and it had a reassuring quality to it, but he wasn’t going to fall for it.

"Sure you aren't." He was as defiant and sarcastic as Adam now. It felt horrible; that hadn't exactly turned out well for Adam. "I'm not letting you do anything to us. Other than take us to a hospital."

The man turned his head to glance at Adam. "We'll treat him."

"Will you?" He didn't trust him in the slightest. He didn't trust a single person on this ship. Besides Adam, but he didn't count.

"Yes. We want you only."

He was shaking again, and he would gladly have done anything to stay where he was, but he supposed he had to comply. Arguing was taking the little energy he had right out of him, and he couldn't afford to waste it. Besides, if he didn't do what the man said, who knows what he would do to him as punishment?

He stood up, looked back down at Adam (still sleeping, still pale and sickly), and slowly walked over to the man. He swallowed again. The man nodded and they headed out into the hallway, down the same way as before, but into a different room. This one was smaller. Darker, too. It had a couple of chairs, plastic and just as uncomfortable-looking as the ones from before. He sat down in one, the man in the other, opposite him.

They stared at each other, the man not looking at all like the smug, acidic lady or her stoic guards. He looked calm. Neutral. It scared him just as much.

"Do you know why you're here?" he began.

He took a deep breath. "Because I'm useless?"

"Not quite. In a way you are, but not entirely." He sat up just a bit. Shifted. Didn't look like he had ever been comfortable in his life. "You belong to the other side. The rest of the world, not us. You're against us, right?"

If he hadn't been before, he certainly was now. He didn't say that. Just nodded.

"That's expected. You were on the other ship, after all." He didn't say a single thing about it or its inhabitants. Moved on. "Since you were on the other ship, you have information that's most likely very valuable to us. But we want to ask you other questions. Not about that information, or maybe it is." He didn't elaborate; he leaned back and looked at him as if he were contemplating him, his face and his entire existence, maybe. He continued to stare back. Waiting.

"First off. Do you know what just happened to you?"

That was an interesting question. One he hadn't expected. Did he know? Of course he did. It still hurt as much as if it had just happened.

Did _they_ know? Probably. What was this man doing?

He felt uneasy, and he swallowed again. He was doing that quite a lot.

"Like..." he started.

He wondered how much information he should give him. Shouldn't this guy know what had happened? This whole ordeal was so strange.

He squinted, and ended up saying nothing. His mind was drawing a blank.

"Well?" At least the man was patient. He was gazing at him thoughtfully, but sternly. He suddenly wanted to get very, very far away from him.

"I... Don't you know?" Probably not the best question, but the only thing that was coming to his mind.

"Maybe."

He hated that answer. _Maybe._ Just be straight for once. Give him a break.

That wasn't going to happen, obviously.

"You... they... Lady."

"Ms. Morris?" She had a name. He hated it.

"I guess. She took us. To... somewhere. Me and..." He swallowed again. Couldn't say his name, for some reason. Weird. "Yeah. She... are you sure you don't know about this?"

"I would like for you to tell me."

His voice was so ridiculously smooth. He could have been some sort of announcer or newscaster. He wasn't, though, not even close.

"Uh. Okay." He blinked and took a deep breath again. "So we were there. And she was there. And she brought some... guys. And they..."

He couldn't say any more. Couldn't do it. He looked up at the man - stared at him - begged him silently for a return to freedom.

It didn't come. Not yet. The man shifted in his seat again, still directing his gaze straight into his eyes. He spoke again.

"Fine. Next question. Why do you think we did it?"

These questions were simple, yet powerful. He felt another sharp pain in his chest. He didn't much want to answer this one either, but it wasn't as if he had a large array of choices given to him.

"Because you don't like us?" Was that what the lady had said? He couldn't remember now. He could barely remember anything, even though it hadn’t been too long ago.

"I suppose that's an answer. Not quite, though."

That had been his reply for the other question. Was he wrong? Or right? This vagueness was killing him.

His seat was starting to become uncomfortable. How long was he going to be there? Probably forever.

"I..." He couldn't even think anymore. All he wanted to do was go back to Adam and get out of there. Forever, preferably. And get some sleep. He really, really wished he could sleep.

"I don't know."

He _was_ useless to them. Maybe that was in his favor. If he didn't give them adequate answers, maybe they would let him go. Ha. In a perfect world.

"You don't know?" A question, or a statement? Was he supposed to answer it?

He shook his head.

"Hm." Maybe his hypothesis would prove to be correct. The man didn't look especially pleased with him, but his questioning persisted.

"Do you know where Adam is?"

He sat up. His mind had inexplicably cleared in the millisecond after the man had said that. Adam?

"How do you know his name?"

"We know." Short answer, to the point. He loathed it with all of his being.

"Yeah, I know where he is." He blinked rapidly. His breathing had shortened. He did know where he was, right? Right? Damn it, he should not have left him alone.

"You do?"

"I... I think I do." Damn it, he was so freaking vague. It was driving him insane. "I left him in the room, and, and you said you would..."

What had he said? Damn it.

"You said you would give him... medical attention." Had he? He couldn't remember now. Damn it. Damn it. He needed some oxygen.

The man was calm. Composed. Just like the lady had been. "Did I?"

 _Damn it._ Why couldn't he remember? Had he made that part up?

 _Maybe you shouldn’t trust him,_ he said to himself. _He's not a good guy, he's got to be lying. Yeah. Lying. They're taking care of Adam right now._

"You - you did." Tried to be calmer and more authoritative. Failed, for the most part. Nice effort, though not nice enough.

"I don't remember that." The man's tone suggested he thought he was an idiot. Maybe he was.

"Well, I do." He didn't, really. It was slipping quickly from his mind. But he must have, otherwise where would he have gotten the idea to say it?

"Are you sure?"

So vague. He took another deep breath.

"Next question."

The man smiled, and a second later laughed. It was soft and terrible.

"Good, you're getting it."

Getting what? Whatever. He was sick of this.

"Tell me where Adam is," he said.

"Who's Adam?"

"...What?"

He stared at him, his mind now completely blank. The man returned his gaze, looking as if nothing in the world were wrong.

"I asked you a question," he said calmly.

"What?"

"You seem confused." He was, entirely.

He didn't know what to say. Or do. Or what this guy wanted. He was hopeless.

That was probably what they wanted.

"Next question," the man continued as if no pause in the flow of conversation had occurred. "Are you or have you ever been involved in relations with the SBM?"

"Nope," he said.

"I didn't think so. Are you or have you ever been involved in the rebellion forces against the SBM?"

"The - what?"

"Are you in opposition to us?"

"Well... yeah. Otherwise I wouldn't really be here right now, would I?"

"Don't be too sure about that." He looked at him in contemplation again. "We seem to think that you're rather neutral to the war."

"I guess. I'm not too involved in politics." That was the truth. Why was he there to take pictures? Because he liked to observe things from an outsider's perspective.

"Exactly. So why did you say you were in opposition to us?"

"I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He definitely wasn't at this point. All he wanted to do was go to sleep...

"No, perhaps you weren't. Back to Adam, shall we?"

He wanted to get as far away from the subject of Adam as possible.

Wait...

"I thought you said you didn't know who he was."

"Did I? I don't think I did."

"Yeah, you did."

"Hm. I'm not too sure about that. I definitely know who he is."

This was frustrating. There was no use arguing, though. He sighed. "What about him, then?"

"You'll be happy to hear that we're taking medical care of him as we speak. He had a couple of broken bones, so sad. And a near concussion. Bleeding, too. You didn't take very good care of him, did you?"

"I couldn't have." He hadn't been given a thing to help him, and anyway, how did he even know that? He didn't trust him at all now, although he barely had from the start.

The man looked almost disappointed. "You could have, though. What a shame."

"No, I couldn't have."

"You could have helped him from the start. By not interfering. By forcing him to not be so defiant."

"There's no way -"

"How do you know there isn't a way?" The man sat up, and looked at him bitterly. "What makes you the expert? Don't you know? This is all your fault. Every bit of it. If you had just stayed home and not gotten involved with the war at all, Adam would have no knowledge of you, and wouldn't be bothered to try to protect you. What do you even need protection for?"

He wasn't sure where all this had come from. Out of the blue, really. Still, though, it hurt.

Was he really able to save Adam? Was he? Had it really been his fault? Nah.

But maybe it had. He looked straight at the man, remaining silent.

"Adam could be dead right now, you know. We could have easily killed him in a second. But we spared him for your sake. Because now every time you look at him, you get to be reminded of when you both were here, and how he happened to receive scars and injuries that will remain as evidence for the rest of both of your lives. I want you to look at him and think. What have you done? You've affected Adam. It's your fault."

It wasn't, though. It wasn't. Not his fault. Maybe it was.

"Listen here, Rick. You're useless, and nothing but a complete problem and a total waste. An entity of negativity that pervades into people's lives and ruins them. Are you proud that Adam will have to live the rest of his life knowing what you've done? Knowing that you could have saved him, but you didn't? Knowing that you were selfish, disgusting, and nothing, absolutely nothing. You better be damn lucky that we're giving him help, because we could very easily let him rot to death, and that would all be your fault, too. Let that sink in."

It had already sunk in long before.

"Thank you for your time."

Uncertainty, he stood up. The man watched him, and as he began to walk away, he spoke again.

"Oh, and by the way. We left Adam in the room, he's still in immense pain. Might even be close to death right now."

His eyes widened. _What?_

"Oh, did you think I was telling the truth? Nope. Anything I said in this room could or could not have been the truth. It's up to you to decide which one it is." A smile; the SBM definitely excelled in making them appear sickly sweet. "Even what I just said. I have no clue where Adam is right now. But from the beginning he's been your responsibility."

He turned around fully. "I don't understand."

"And I don't think you ever will... that's a pity. You might have shown promise at some point in your life, but definitely not here." He shook his head. "Shame. And I can only imagine the effect that your incompetence has on Adam."

He couldn't even begin to imagine it.

"Goodbye, Rick. Go find Adam, wherever he may be. I hope he hasn't died. For his sake, not yours."

What a horrible person. He turned around again, feeling the man's eyes creeping at the back of his neck. He grabbed the door handle, turned and pulled it, and left. And that was that.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we continue with pain and suffering and also brave knights

"Let me see where they hurt you."

-

He wandered down the hallway, down, down, down, his feet somehow remembering where their room was. He could barely even think anymore. Barely breathe. Was barely conscious.

He was the one who should have been tortured to the point of near death, not Adam. Never Adam, beautiful Adam. What had he ever done? Defended himself. Screw the whole defiance blame they put on him. He hated them too.

He was starting to hate himself more, though.

Beautiful Adam - he would always be beautiful to him, even after what he had gone through. Blood strewn and spattered all over his face like he had just bathed in the stuff. Broken bones, maybe, and an almost or possibly mild concussion, maybe, or whatever. None of that, nothing at all, would make him less beautiful.

There was nothing that would make him more beautiful, though.

Found the door to the room. Shaking hand grabbed the door handle. Opened it, pushed. Almost fell inside, he was so relieved.

Adam was there. Exactly where he had left him. Why? Why had they done nothing to him? Had they killed him while he was gone?

A chill bolted through his entire body. His breathing quickened. Couldn't move, but ran over to the bed nonetheless.

Adam was there. Breathing. He was breathing. He was breathing.

He was breathing too.

Sat down next to him. He was still sleeping, ha. Cute. How long had he been away from him? An eternity, most likely. A horrible eternity. But he was back. And Adam was still sleeping.

"Adam," he whispered. Combed his hair back from his face again, cupped his face with his palm. Goddammit, there were marks from what the guards had done. And they were quite noticeable, too. He felt sick to his stomach.

Ignored that. "Adam," he repeated. Man, he really was fast asleep. He tapped the side of his head lightly with his finger tips; that woke him up.

"Hm?" So quiet. It was okay.

"I'm back."

"Oh." He did look hurt. Maybe even worse than he had been before. Was he imagining that? Or not? Oh no.

"Did they do anything to you?"

A small pause, but long enough that it made him feel sick again. "No, I don't think that they've been here. I was sleeping the whole time. Did they do anything to you?"

His throat sounded sore. Still quiet. His voice was quiet too.

"No." Better tell him that than the truth. What was the truth? "They just kind of talked to me."

"About what?"

"Oh, you know. They asked me if I knew anything that was against them or if I knew why they had taken us, which was stupid."

_"Why?"_

"See, he didn't actually answer that. He was really vague about everything."

"He?"

"The guy who asked me stuff. I didn't like him."

"I bet." He shivered. It was a small gesture, barely detectable, but he noticed it.

"You cold?"

"A little bit."

"Hm." There were no blankets in sight; that only meant him. He indicated for Adam to shift over on the bed, and once he did he lied down next to him. Close. Like they had been before.

"He said you hate me." Looks like the plan to hide everything from him had been thrown out the window. "Do you hate me?"

"What? No way."

Good. "You sure?"

"Way sure. Why did he tell you that?"

"I don't know. To make me feel bad, I guess. He said it was all my fault that we're here and that you're... yeah."

"Well, tell him to shut up. He's wrong. Nothing's your fault."

"Yeah." The funny thing was, though, he couldn't make himself believe that. No matter how hard he tried. The man's words lingered at the back of his mind, taunting him. Sure, it was his fault... everything was his fault...

"It's all _their_ fault. You didn't ask to be put here, and I didn't either. Heck, I'm really lucky that I'm with you and not with anyone else. Or alone. That would be terrible."

"I wouldn't like that." He was glad he was with him, too. No matter how awful things seemed, there was a small underlying layer of comfort that Adam was by his side.

And to think that they didn't even know each other less than a month ago. Weird.

"Let me see where they hurt you."

Stroked his hair back again. Looked at his face, but not his face. His skin. The marks were there. They might be there for a long time.

"Forehead," Adam murmured. "And my... cheekbones."

"And your throat?" He had only just remembered that. No wonder his voice seemed a tad hoarse.

"Yeah. That one stings, don't touch it."

He didn't touch him anywhere, really. Just looked. There were the thinnest of lines, but they were dirtied by the still trickling, minute amount of blood that remained. It had stained his skin. That could be cleaned up, though. Maybe the cuts could be as well.

"I want to kill them," he said under his breath. Hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but did. Adam heard, of course.

"Don't do that, then we'll get into even more trouble."

"I still want to. Doesn't mean I'll actually do it." Who was he kidding? Those cuts would leave scars. And both of them would have to live with them forever. "They did this to you. It's not okay."

"Well, killing them isn't gonna fix anything. Shh."

Yeah, he needed to calm down. He rested his head near Adam, still looking at him.

"It could be worse," Adam said. "They could have cut me a lot deeper. And in worse places. And it could have been worse than just cuts."

That was true. They could have - no. Didn't want to even think about that.

"So, if you think about it, I got off pretty good. I can talk and breathe, I'm with you, I'm not dead."

"That's a great list."

"It's better than nothing."

"Yeah." Better than nothing. This felt worse than nothing, somehow. But he didn't say that. He didn't say a thing.

-

"Let me see where they hurt you."

It was dark out. About two weeks before their anniversary. He couldn't sleep. Kept talking to Adam, worrying out loud. Thankfully Adam didn't mind. At least, he didn't think so.

"It's kind of hard to tell now," said Adam, sounding uncertain. "Especially since it's dark."

"I don't need a visual."

"Are you sure? I don't want it to hurt you more."

He was great. He didn't want it to hurt him. The scars on _his_ body. Hurt _him._ Selfless to the end.

"I need confirmation."

"Of what?"

"That it happened."

The fact that this had happened more than once before was key to why Adam didn't question his strange excuse.

He shifted over. Brought out a hand, touched his forehead just slightly. Softly. He knew exactly where each scar was.

"I think they're fading," said Adam quietly.

"Scars don't fade." Not sure why he was so sure of that. It was a fact of life, probably.

"I think they are, though. I can barely even see them when I look in the mirror. And even then I have to look to find them."

"I can still feel them." He could. With his finger, lightly stroking down a thin line on his forehead. And two small slits on his cheekbones.

"There's your proof, then." Not condescending, but clear and factual. "We both went through it."

"I should've been all cut up. Not you." He moved his hand down to his throat. This one was less noticeable than the others, but he still knew where it was, and thus it could never truly go away.

"Don't say that." Sharper tone. "Don't ever say that."

"Why? It's what I think." He took his hand away. He was right; that was the proof he needed.

"You have more than enough to worry about."

"You shouldn't have any."

"My life would be way too easy if it were like that. And yours would be even harder. It wouldn't be fair. I had to have gotten something from it."

"You shouldn't have." He didn't even know why he was arguing with him. Was it an argument? A reassurance. They didn't really have arguments.

"Don't. Shh. Stop saying stuff like that."

"I can't stop."

"Why?"

He took in a breath. Lied down fully again. Curled up on his side. "I just can't. My brain won't shut up and stop blaming me."

"You need to sleep."

"I know, but I can't."

"Then I'll talk to you until you fall asleep. Maybe I'll bore you."

"Never." He closed his eyes anyway.

"Okay," said Adam. "Once upon a time there was a brave knight named Sir Rick."

"I've heard this one before."

"You're hearing it again. Sir Rick was the most noble of knights. He literally basked in the glow of his sheer nobility. It was great. There was another knight as well, named Sir Adam."

"Was he noble too?"

"Sure. Sir Adam was also noble, but not nearly as noble as Sir Rick."

"Not true."

"It's my story, not yours. Anyway. Sirs Rick and Adam were married. Because married knights are the coolest. And they loved each other very much. But they had to take off their knight helmets to kiss each other."

"And do other stuff."

"Yeah, eat too. But they were the noblest knights. One day, the king decided to send the brave knights out to fight an evil dragon. This dragon was very large and very monstrous, and had horrible fiery breath that could kill a man. Fortunately, the knights were very brave, and so they went out to fight the dragon. They soon found out that the dragon was very dangerous indeed."

"Why?"

"You'll see. Not only did it have fiery breath, but it also had razor sharp claws and feet that could easily trample them. They seemed trapped. Where could they run? Where could they hide? Nowhere. So, what they did was that they went out and fought that dragon. It was an epic fight, and they got some pretty bad burns along the way. Second degree burns, probably, and to this day those burns still hurt somewhat. But that doesn't even matter, really, because the important thing, the very important thing, is that they got out and slayed the dragon, and now it's nothing to worry about. Sirs Rick and Adam went back to their kingdom, and they were once again hailed as the noblest and bravest of knights. And they lived happily ever after, married forever and ever. The end."

"You should be a children's writer." He did seem a bit more tired, although that probably  wasn’t the fault of the story.

"Along with everything else? And you? And the taxes? I have no time."

"Aw. I would like it."

"I bet you would. Now, sleep. Tomorrow will be a better and brighter day."

"Will it?"

"It will be compared to right now. Good night."

Oh well. "Good night."

"I love you."

"I love you too." 

\- 2015 -

They had gotten out eventually, of course. Right when they were really start to get hungry, too, which was an added bonus. It had been about an hour that they had been together, just lying next to each other and talking about trivial things they would later forget. And that was when they had heard on a knock on the door.

That was the difference from the people who worked and lived there. They hadn't bothered to knock, but at let themselves in with all their glory, power, and intimidation. But this was an unmistakable knock. They gave each other terrified glances.

"Again?" whispered Adam.

"Shh," he said.

The door opened, and they had never been happier to see a white uniform.

-

Neither of them really knew how they had found them. Tracking, maybe, or they searched for them manually. Regardless, they had found them, and hope had been restored.

It wasn't just one person who had found them. There was a large group of uniformed officers, about 20 or so that had come there on one of their smaller boats. They had taken the staff of the ship (a grand total of 12 people, as it turned out) and handcuffed them, basically told them they were horrible people, and practically dragged them to the boats. He and Adam watched the whole scene with confusion and the slightest amount of fear.

"You don't have food, do you?" he said, barely a whisper, to one of the officers. She blinked.

"I don't... I have some crackers from earlier," she said, rummaging through her pocket and producing a small packet of crackers. "I'm sorry, we should have thought of that."

"It's okay." There were three in the packet. He would give two of them to Adam and keep one for himself. Adam deserved more.

-

The boat ride seemed shorter than the one on the way there. Maybe it was because they were heading back, or because he was no longer alone. He sat next to a shivering Adam, who leaned his head against his shoulder and mumbled things about how he couldn't believe this was happening, and how he thought they were going to die, et cetera.

"I didn't think that we were going to die." That was a lie. He had thought many times that they were going to die, either from being killed or from the lack of food and drink.

"I thought I was," said Adam.

"No you weren't. You are so strong."

"I am?"

"Uh huh."

-

Once they got back to the ship they were hurried on to it and rushed to the first aid room. It was a sort of miniature hospital, but so incredibly miniature that it barely functioned as one. There was enough room for both of them, though, and that was enough.

"I don't need anything," he said to one of the doctors. "Adam needs stuff. I'm fine."

"You're in shock, you're not fine."

"I am?" He didn't feel like it. Shouldn't he know if he were in shock?

"Yes. Sit down."

There were three beds, and Adam was lying on one. He sat down at a chair next to it and looked at him; Adam looked back.

"We're debating on going home," said another doctor, one that was getting something ready with a clipboard and rubber gloves. "Since we think we got what we wanted. That'll be really good for you, too."

He nodded. Adam didn't say anything. Probably was pleased about it. Maybe.

"You'll probably need to go home anyway. You - " She was addressing Adam now. "Have a couple of fractured ribs, did you even notice?"

"No," he said. His voice was barely audible, probably from exhaustion or the cut on his throat, or both.

"Well. You do. We may have to run some scans on you to see what's wrong."

"Oh."

He wished he could talk to him, alone. Not now, but soon. He wanted to talk to him forever, not stopping unless they wanted to.

"How bad was it, anyway? Let me see where they hurt you."

He winced, even though they weren't his injuries.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I've been gone so long, I've been mega busy. happy holidays

Adam, as it turned out, was quite good at playing the acoustic guitar. This was a talent he didn't find out until later, after the war was over and everyone had gone home and everyone was happy, somewhat. They were living together, because they pretty much had to at this point. There was no way they were going through the rest of their lives without each other.

But he had found it out, mostly because he had found Adam's guitar. It was a normal, sort of tan-colored one, not new but new-looking. Polished recently. Quite pretty. And so he had asked him about it, and he told him it was a hobby of his, nothing big, and he had asked (begged) him to play something, and he had, and it was beautiful. Flowed nicely, melodic, but somehow powerful. Warmed his heart. He fell in love all over again.

That was a good night.

In any case, Adam could play guitar quite well. He had been in a couple of bands when he was younger, he had told him, but nothing really once he reached his twenties. Kind of abandoned it, he said. But he still loved it. As a hobby.

He wasn't too sure about that hobby part. He seemed almost too good at it for it to be just a hobby. A pity it was so hard to become successful as a musician nowadays.

"I don't really mind," Adam had said once when he had told him that. "I would just be some loser with a guitar. The world has billions of those."

"Not billions. Anyway, you're good."

"Thanks. But really, it's fine."

He wondered whether Adam was telling the truth about that, too.

-

It was about half a month until their anniversary, and they were just hanging out doing nothing of importance. Adam had taken out his guitar and was tuning it, picking at strings every few seconds and humming to himself.

He was lying on the couch again, but not in misery as he so often did. Not tired, but tired. A sort of nothing state of being. Watching Adam.

"When are you gonna write all the songs you make up?" he asked him. There had been quite a few over the years that he had been together. Probably too many for a single album.

"Eventually." Plucked the strings again. "I would have to remember them first."

"You could make up something on the spot right now and I wouldn't be able to tell if it were old or not."

"True. It would just be a bunch of boring guitar, though."

"You could write lyrics."

Adam stopped and laughed at that. "Singing? You're nuts."

"Hey, it was just a suggestion."

"A suggestion that'll never happen." He shook his head and returned to his guitar work.

"I bet you could," he said. He was probably annoying him, which was excellent. He loved annoying him.

"I'll pass."

"Come on."

"Nope."

"Fine. I won't buy your album."

"You won't be the only one." Strummed all the strings at once. It sounded nice. "I think it's good."

"Good, I'll get a tape recorder."

"That's sure a form of fine art." He smiled.

"What are you smirking at?"

"Nothing. Life is funny."

Whatever that meant.

-

He didn't notice it at first, but he was about half an inch taller than Adam. It was barely even noticeable, and half the time it wasn't even close to being a prominent difference. It was mostly when they kissed that it became somewhat of an issue, and it wasn't even an issue at all. They got over it very quickly.

He sometimes liked to tease Adam, though. He called him “shorty” and said things like "what's the weather like down there?" After that Adam would promptly ignore him and not speak to him until he apologized and lamented his horrible sense of humor.

"I've solved it," he said once, when they took note of the differences in their heights. "You can wear heels all the time, and I'll be barefoot."

"What?"

"You heard me. Stilettos."

"You wish. I bet this isn't even about my height."

"It's entirely about your height."

"Nah. You have ulterior motives."

"Shut up, shorty."

It was kind of cute that Adam had to go up a bit just to kiss him, though. Just enough to position his lips the right way. Sometimes he had to lean down just the slightest bit, and that felt weird, but it was worth it in the end.

He almost liked it more that way. If they were the same exact height it would be boring. This added an element of interest. And if he were any more shorter than him, life would be difficult. No, he was just right.

-

He had worked as a mechanic once. That was his first job. Working for his dad, which made way for the inevitable comparisons. Rick and Rick Jr., two mechanic companions. Very funny.

He didn't enjoy it, but he didn't not enjoy it. He had a complex relationship with the craft, really. It wasn't even close to being his passion, but it wasn't torture. It was just something he did to help out his dad.

Adam often used this history against him, instructing him to fix everything, from speakers to his electric toothbrush. Usually he could, too, which was annoying. Adam was always right.

But anyway, he had knowledge of how to fix cars, and in some ways that manifested in himself. He liked fixing things, and if there was a problem that couldn't be fixed, it was extremely aggravating.

-

Adam did end up playing a little tune. Improvised, obviously, as he kept pausing to think of a melody. It was nice nonetheless. He liked everything that Adam created, whether it was truly of high quality or not.

Adam hummed as he played. He tended to do that a lot, he had noticed. Hum. He was always humming. That was one of the reasons he had suggested he write lyrics; it wasn't just another one of his jokes. He really could, he bet, and they would be great.

Maybe he would. He tended to do a lot of things he suggested. Out of love, maybe, or perhaps swayed by it. Unconsciously or not.

Adam stopped. Looked at him.

"I know what you're thinking," he said.

He probably did. He was about ninety-nine percent sure that he had psychic powers. He was weird like that.

"What am I thinking?"

"That I would be real good at writing the words to this."

See? Psychic. He was astounding.

"And you would."

"I don't know. I've never done anything like that."

That was a lie. He had seen old scraps of prose on note paper he had written on years ago, or essays from college that seemed to flow and connect thoughts even though they were on the most dull and boring of topics, or even his richly detailed emails to his relatives. He had a way with words.

"I bet you could." That was true. He really did bet. He would bet real money if given the chance.

Adam shrugged and looked down at his guitar again. Strummed it halfheartedly.

-

He found Adam later lying on the same spot on the couch that he had been resting on earlier. He had his eyes closed, and his legs curled up. Trying to be smaller, probably. He knew the feeling.

"What's up? You done with the guitar?"

"Forever." Very quiet. Maybe he was tired.

"Not forever."

"I wanna be done forever."

"I want the opposite of that."

"I don't care." That was slurred. He curled up even more and smashed his face against the couch. "I don't care, I don't care."

"Okay, okay." He would change his mind. Silly Adam. "You could always give that other idea some thought, you know."

"I don't care about any other ideas." Apathetic today. He could get him out of it, hopefully.

Scrunched up even more, pressing against the couch. He wasn't facing him, but he could tell that his eyes were shut tight. His face was probably scrunched up too, in an awkward and uncomfortable sort of way.

"That's a shame."

"Mm."

"I do think you're great, though."

"I'm not."

"Yeah you are. You don't have to be, like, a genius with five hundred billion dollars to be great."

"I'm not great anyway."

"Don't say that. You are."

Adam groaned. "Go awaaaaay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Um. Okay."

He obliged and left him for quite a while, in the hopes that maybe his mood would improve. He didn't budge from the couch, though. Just lied there with his eyes closed. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

He walked over to him. "Adam?"

"What?"

No, he hadn't.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." That was a lie. He didn't even know why he had asked it. Clearly Adam wasn't okay.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Forced. Still speaking directly into the interior of the couch.

"'Cause if you aren't, I would like to help you."

"I'm fine, go away."

"I did that and it didn't help. Come on."

Adam shifted, still not making eye contact with him. "Go _away._ " Practically a yell.

"You sure?"

_"Leave."_

"Okay." And he did. Again. Didn't know what was up with him, but if he were mad at him things couldn't possibly go well.

-

He slept alone that night in a cold, cold bed. It couldn't possibly be that cold normally, could it? He was still in it, after all. It shouldn't be freezing.

He threw the blanket off himself and got out of bed to grab another one. And get socks. Sleeping with socks on usually bugged him, but not tonight. Tonight was cold.

It was the middle of April, not January. He was ridiculous. His body was ridiculous. Always had been.

He couldn't go to sleep well that night, either. Not just because of the cold, but because everything just felt empty in general. This was the unfamiliar; he had forgotten just how lonely sleeping by himself was. Very lonely indeed.

Then he started thinking about what would happen if he had one of his nightmares again. Would he get up and try to wake Adam? Would he call for him and hope that he heard and was willing to come to him? Would he simply wait it out by himself? Probably that one.

It sucked. He hoped sincerely, for both of their sakes, that he would have a good night's sleep.

-

The next morning, Adam seemed more cheerful. Still quiet, but not all weird like he had been. He woke up a bit later, after coffee had already been made. Maybe the scent of it was what had roused him.

"You made coffee?" Surprised, maybe. Didn't know why. It wasn't like him making coffee was the rarest thing in the world.

"Yeah. There's some left for you." He had made sure to include just enough for him if he wanted it, but not enough so that it would be a total waste if he were to decline it. Smart thinking on his part.

"Thanks." He walked past him, and he watched him walk. Seemed as fine as ever. Not as tired in appearance as he had yesterday. Should he mention the night before? Allude to it, maybe.

"You feeling alright today?"

"Yeah." Didn't elaborate. That was fine.

"That's good. Did you sleep well?"

"I guess." It was probably uncomfortable. The couch tended to not be the best place on which to sleep. They both knew that quite well, having done so together more than once before.

"Good." It wasn't the most awkward conversation in the world, but certainly not the most illuminating. Oh well. He would open up in a bit if he wanted to.

-

He didn't, and went on with his day. It was Saturday, and they didn't have anything planned, so they ended up not doing anything at all. Wasting the day. He supposed there had to at least be a few times a year when days were wasted like that.

He went to bed having felt tired for the past several hours or more. Adam joined him this time, thankfully, and the bed didn't feel nearly as cold as it had.

"I'm sorry." He looked at him.

"For what?"

"For being rude."

Rude? He hadn't been that. Hadn't done anything of the sort. Yelled at him a bit, but that wasn't even a pressing issue. Or an issue at all, in itself.

"In what way?"

"Like I was today. And last night. All weird."

"Oh." That hadn't seemed rude to him. Distant, maybe, but not in the least bit rude. Maybe he just didn't blame him for anything. "You weren't."

"I wasn't?"

"Nah."

"Oh. Good, I guess." Didn't say anything more. Was he holding something back? He wished he could tell. Adam could always tell when he was holding something back.

"Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."

"Yeah. Maybe." He didn't sound too certain about that. Poor Adam. Whatever was the matter with him, it was affecting him pretty deeply.

Should he ask what? Adam always sort of knew what was going on when he wasn't feeling well. But then again, there was only ever one thing wrong with him. Well, two. Nightmares and self pity.

And how would he word it? 'What's wrong with you' was far too harsh. 'What's up' was too vague, too simple. 'Darling, I've noticed you've been acting kind of off from how you usually are and I'm wondering exactly what the cause is?' No.

He should just be quiet, really. And Adam should divorce him, probably. No wonder he wasn't happy.

"Do you want to get a divorce?"

Now why had he said that out loud? Why? He was stupid. And scared. Scared of the answer. Scared, scared, why had he said that?

"What?" Adam sounded scared too. Why had he said that?

"Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean -"

"No. No way, absolutely not. Why do you -"

"I don't. I was just wondering -"

"No. Never in a million years do I want that."

"Oh."

It was coming. He knew it was. He couldn't stop it. He would regret it. Goddammit.

"Why not?"

There it was, that terrible question. Stupid him had to ask.

"Because I love you. Why, do you want to?"

"No." His voice sounded squeaky. He needed to go to sleep.

"Okay, then why did you ask?"

"Because I'm stupid. I'm sorry."

"Shh." Adam reached out and patted his head softly. "Shh."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Just be quiet, and maybe it will be a better day tomorrow." He brought his hand back and gazed at him with a hint of worry in his eyes.

"It will." Please let it be. He was sick of this.

"All right. Good night."      

"Good night." He had doubts that it would actually be a good night - but maybe it would be. Maybe.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas! here's a present.

Marissa again. He was beginning to get used to talking to her, almost. There was still some degree of heightened nerves, true, but at least he wasn't speechless. At least he had broken the lowest level of silence.

He would be seeing her later that day, in the midst of the afternoon. For now it was morning, and there was nothing of importance going on. Nothing going on at all, really, nothing in the slightest bit out of the ordinary. Adam had left for work about an hour before, and he was left alone again. Somehow, he felt more alone than usual. And that tended to be a lot.

He wasn't going to lie around on the couch for hours today, though. He was really sick of that. Day after day of nothing. No, he was actually going to get up today.

"Getting up" pretty much just meant making himself breakfast. And he did. It wasn't as good as when Adam made it, but still edible.

Boring. The sun was shining, but it had been colder this week than the last one, and he didn't much want to go outside. Oh well. Summer was soon, and that would be fine. No use getting a head start.

-

"Hi, Rick."

"Hi." For some reason he couldn't articulate her name. It felt awkward and it didn't exactly make the trek from his brain to his vocal cords.

He sat down. If the room was anything, it was comfortable. A couple couches and chairs, darkened enough to not make him feel on the spot. Cozy.

"Anything interesting happen in the last week?"

"No," he said, but then he remembered the night before. "Oh. Adam."

"What about him?" She looked far more comfortable and at ease than he did, curled up on the couch opposite him and resting her elbow against the arm of the couch. He wished he could have that level of confidence and show it in such a brazen way.

"He... well. Last night..."

And so he told her. She didn't seem as surprised about it as he had expected her to be. Maybe she knew something he didn't. That was probably true for many, many things.

-

"You know, I've gone to see Marissa recently, too."

He hadn't known. He stared at him and blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Last week."

When had that happened? He hadn't even noticed.

"Wednesday morning, actually."

"Didn't you have work?"

"I don't have work on Wednesdays."

Oh, yeah. He had forgotten. He had been forgetting a lot of things like that lately.

"But you went there."

"Yeah."

"To see Marissa."

"Yep."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what to make of that. He certainly hadn't known he had been seeing her, that's for sure. Except for that one time, weeks ago.

"Is that... okay?"

He wasn't sure if it was or not. He was still getting over the initial shock, really. Well, maybe not shock. Bemusement that he hadn't realized it earlier.

"Yeah. I'm just kind of -"

"Confused? It's all right. I don't go to her as often as you do."

Did he go to her often? He had only seen her three times, right? Not too often.

"Sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I forgot, actually."

"That's okay." It was okay; why wouldn’t it be okay? He was just dumb.

"All right, then." And that was the end of the conversation.

He was still getting used to seeing Marissa again. It had been a while, and he had gotten so wrapped up in himself and solving his own troubles that he forgot she was perfectly willing to help him out. It was awkward, and he still couldn't shake the idea that she hated him. Adam had told her she didn't, but still the thought persisted.

He wished all his thoughts would go away forever.

\- 2015 -

The war ended a couple months after their incident on the ship, but they went home long before that. Health and safety issues, of course, which they didn't necessarily agree with one hundred percent but didn't disagree with either. It was a pity he wouldn't have much for his assignment, though.

Unbelievably, he still had his camera. Somehow he had managed to keep it hidden all that time, and it had survived unscathed. Maybe he should have taken pictures of their attackers, but he hadn't. Oh well.

So they went home, or at least he went to Adam's house. He stayed there for the rest of his life, too.

He had lived in an apartment before his assignment, one that was the epitome of mediocrity. Three rooms, plus a bathroom that was smaller than his pinky toe. He sold it. There was no way in hell he would ever go back there again. 

Adam had invited him to live his house while they were staying in the first aid room. They had been talking, and he had been gushing, really, complimenting him on how brave he had been and all that crap. Flirting in his own way. And Adam had complimented him back, and said _how would you like to live with me,_ and he said yes without even thinking about it.

After he had thought about it, his decision hadn't changed.

So that was it. Adam went home, and he went home with him, and they had a handful of belongings together with them, which weren't important. He would end up going back to his apartment to retrieve the rest of his possessions the week after, and had found that very little of them were necessary. He sold most of them, in fact. The war had changed him.

The war. The stupid war. Between the United States and the stupid SBM. Who had won? The US of A. Who had lost? Not just the SBM.

It made him sigh.

-

It was July when the war began. It was November when the war ended, and they moved in together. It was February when he asked Adam to marry him.

It wasn't an impulsive decision in any way. Truth be told, he had been thinking about marrying him since they first got together. They started as just daydreams, thinking and wondering about what would happen if they were to be married. Together forever. Huh.

The actual idea for it came to him in around December. About a month after they started living together. Adam had been playing his guitar for him, just random songs that came to mind purely to entertain him. A sort of private concert. It was cozy. But the kicker really came with him dedicating every song to him.

"This next song's for my boyfriend Rick. You may know him."

He played something wonderful for a couple of minutes, and then smiled.

"They're actually all for my boyfriend Rick."

He smiled back. "What a lucky guy he must be."

"Oh, he is." Strummed. "To mix it up... This next one's for a lucky member of the audience. Any random person could be the lucky winner of my dedication. Who's it gonna be? Any volunteers?"

"Me."

"Going once... going twice..." He paused dramatically for effect. "...sold to the gorgeous guy in front. What's your name, young man?"

"Marilyn Monroe."

"And no fakery, or you automatically forfeit."

"Ugh. Fine. It's Rick."

"Rick? What a coincidence. I happen to know a guy by that name."

"Yeah? Is he cute?"

"Extremely."

"Wow. Does he happen to be the same guy as your boyfriend?"

"Now that you mention it, he is. And the gosh darn nicest boyfriend I could ask for, too." His smile grew.

He didn't exactly note it, but it was probably at that moment when he first thought of marrying him.

The last hour or so of New Year's' Eve was spent cuddling on their couch and watching TV. It had been comfortable, and Adam had seemed even more warm than usual. He snuggled up next to him, with his head pressed against the top of his chest, and he had never been more content in his life, and the idea of marriage came into being again.  At that time it had only been a fleeting thought - a sort of "you know, I would like to marry this guy" thing that had only crossed his mind for a brief moment - but still, it had crossed his mind. And it didn't seem like such a bizarre, out of place thought at all.

It was January when he really finalized the decision. It had been floating around in the back of his mind for quite a while, and it hit him that maybe, probably, he could do it. Ask him. But would he say no? What would happen if he said no? He doubted he would, except for if he believed it was too soon. Ha. Like he would say that. Them? Too soon? They practically embodied _too_ _soon_.

No way. He would say yes. Besides, it would be better for him to do it now than to wait for forever and obsess over it until the end of time itself. Or have Adam jump to it first. No, this was his. So. What was he going to do about it? And when?

A couple of weeks later, near the end of the month, he decided on Valentine's Day, because why the heck not. They were cheesy enough for that to work, and for them to love it. And it was soon enough so that he wouldn't die of waiting and waiting, yet long enough so that he had enough time to plan for everything. He didn't end up doing a lot of planning.

Valentine's Day. They spent the majority of the day doing nothing, really. Adam went to work, and he spent the day worrying and making him a cheap home made card out of paper and a couple dulled colored pencils he had found lying around for who knows what reason. It was nice. Adam loved it when he came home, he could tell. Even though he made fun of it. He always did that.

They went to dinner. Nothing fancy at all, in fact, quite the opposite. It was emptier than usual, which was nice. They chatted about useless matters and smiled at each other.

Adam cried when he proposed to him. He had made a big speech that he had obsessed over for days and memorized, practiced over and over, and it went perfectly, and Adam cried. Burst into tears, really, and gave him a hug, and kissed him a trillion times. He cried a little too, although he didn't really notice it. They were oh so happy. They slept on the couch, too, which wasn't that comfortable, but they were close to each other and oh so happy and nothing else mattered but the fact that they were engaged now, and not boyfriends, fiancés. Ha. They had done it.

"Married?" Adam said, barely above a whisper. He had said this several times already, and it wasn't the last time. But he loved it. Man, Adam could be overjoyed when he was really happy.

"Married," he replied, just as he had every other time.

"Are you sure? This isn't an early April Fools joke or anything, is it?"

He laughed. They were lying next to each other on the couch already. He was almost slipping off. Didn't notice or care.

"Nope."

"It should be. What are you doing marrying me for?"

"I like you very much."

"Me? That really must be a joke."

"It isn't, I assure you."

"Huh. So we're not boyfriends?"

"No. Not anymore."

Adam grinned so hard he thought his mouth might fall off. "Good. Throw that out the window."

"We're sort of boyfriends 2.0."

"Boyfriends squared."

"Boyfriends: Level Two."

Still smiling. It was reflected in his eyes. Beaming. "Hey, where did that ring you show me go?"

He had forgotten all about it. Had stuffed it hastily back in his pocket when Adam had hugged him. He brought his arm out from across Adam's shoulders and rummaged through his pocket.

"Where is it? ...You want a penny instead? I have one I found on the ground and picked up a while ago."

"No thanks."

"I thought you might refuse." He pulled out the ring. Smiled at it. Smiled at Adam. "What's this?"

"Mine."

"Not so fast." He rubbed the ring slowly between his thumb and index finger. "Which hand do engagement rings go on?"

"Right, I think."

"Oh, yeah. And wedding rings go on the left. So I suppose I'll need your right hand."

"Don't cut it off," said Adam as he moved his hand over. Dangled it in front of his face.

"I won't." He grabbed it and set it between them. Grabbed Adam's right ring finger, slowly rubbed it. "With this ring, I thee engage." Slipped the ring on his finger.

Adam flexed his hand. It was a quite shiny ring, and the moonlight reflected off it. "I love it."

"Thanks. I picked it out just for you."

"You did? Aw. Do you have one?"

"I do happen to." He had kept it in his pocket for a moment precisely like this one. He brought it out and held it up. "Hm. Matches yours."

"Of course it does." Adam snatched it from him and held it between his fingers. "Give me your hand, fiancé."

"Is that all I am to you?" He complied with his order. Adam shakingly took his hand and put the ring on his finger.

"Now we really match," he said, his voice a bit quieter.

"So we do."

He leaned over and kissed him. Nice. He kissed back. Even nicer.

-

When he had told his mom that he had found a boyfriend, she had been pleased. Happy for his sake, of course. Told him she was proud of him, that she was very happy that he was very happy. They talked about Adam for a bit (about an hour); she wanted all the details on him, if he was a good and moral soul or not, if he had even performed an illegal activity, if he had performed it with him, et cetera. Normal mom talk.

When he told her that they were engaged, she flipped the roof.

"Oh my _goodness,_ Rick, that is _amazing!_ Truly amazing. You're serious? Absolutely serious?"

He was.

"That's... that's amazing. Oh, _honey,_ I am so happy for both of you, you have no idea. My baby is going to be married..."

The fact that he had proposed to him on Valentine's Day was her absolute favorite, as he had figured it might be. She was such an old romantic. That was probably where he got it from.

"I'm glad I raised you right, I must say. So when's the wedding?"

"Mom, we've only been engaged for like twelve hours, we don't know yet."

"Oh. Well, tell me when you do. Save two seats for us."

"We definitely will." They would probably be the only two seats. Along with Adam's parents, four. What a crowd.

-

"If I ever make an entire album, I'll dedicate the entire thing to you."

He had been excited about making an album at one time. Imagine that. Actually motivated to do it. Something had changed.

"Will you?"

"Well, yeah. Who else would I dedicate it to?"

"I don't know. Your mom?"

"Nah. I'm not that much a softie."

"So you dedicate it to your fiancé instead. Cute."

"Aw, say that again."

"Cute?"

"No, fiancé."

"Ah, yes. Me, Adam's fiancé. Your fiancé. You are Adam."

"So I am. And you, Rick, are my fiancé."

"Glad we got that sorted out. So what about that album, now?"

"Oh. When I get around to actually making it, it'll be for you. All for you, because I love you." 

"Aw." He didn't have much else to say, really. What a sweet guy. He was so glad he had him in his life.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to bbc sherlock being a queerbaiting pile of garbage I feel pressed more than ever to continue publishing my explicitly gay novel about explicitly gay men. is that too petty? maybe. who knows. anyway, this isn't the happiest chapter (not much of this is happy...I'm sorry...) but here it is. enjoy

Adam didn't eat dinner that night. Said he wasn't hungry. He wondered.

There wasn't a whole lot to eat anyway, just leftovers, so it wasn't that big of a deal. It still was, though. He hadn't eaten at all since he came home, and that couldn't be in the least bit healthy.

"I'm fine." Biggest lie ever told. But maybe it wasn't, this time.

He didn't say anything. Just wondered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said, with a tone suggesting that he was babying him. Again. He tended to do that a lot, unconsciously or not. "I'm just not hungry. No big deal."

He didn't say anything. Didn't want to anger him. That was one of the worst things in the world, when he angered him. The guilt was overwhelming.

Without further investigation, he left him alone. Maybe that wasn't the best idea in the world, maybe it was ingenuity on his part. He never could tell, and too often than not he got it wrong. He would ask him one of these days, when he somehow mustered up the courage to. Why couldn't he? He was his husband. He loved him.

They went to bed later. No sign of any sort of internal harm from Adam. He seemed normal. Quiet, maybe, a tad more quiet than usual, but that wasn't really that worrisome. He was a quiet guy. They both were. Probably why they got along so well.

That wasn't the reason, but it probably contributed to them being able to stand each other.

Adam didn't eat breakfast the next morning, either. Said he wasn't hungry, which made no sense, seeing as he hadn't eaten the night before. How could he not be hungry? That was either impossible or very unhealthy. Maybe he was sick.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

There it was again, that "I'm fine." Did anyone who said it actually mean that they were fine? That was probably a rare occurrence.

He just looked at him. Nothing about him seemed out of ordinary physically. Maybe he was looking a bit thin, though More thin than normal?

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go to the doctors."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're not eating."

"I'm fine. Just haven't been hungry lately."

"Well -"

"Shh."

He shushed.

He was starting to worry, though, as if he didn't worry enough about every little thing that went on in his life. Was Adam okay? Didn't seem like it. But he said he was. But he could be lying. Ugh, he wished he would just tell him the truth. He told him the truth when he was feeling bad.

He was probably okay. He was perfect, pretty much. Endlessly happy. Nothing was wrong with him. Stupid him for worrying.

-

He told Marissa eventually, but she had to dig it out of him. He was scared. Why? He didn't know, but he wished it would stop.

"He's not eating? Hm."

"Well, he has been eating. Just not recently. I don't know what's up with him."

"Hm." She leaned back and gazed at him thoughtfully. "Do you think this has anything to do with why he was feeling bad before?"

"Like when he didn't get off the couch? Maybe. I don't know."

"Could you ask him?"

"I've tried. But he says he's fine."

"Hm." She nodded, not in agreement with anything but in her contemplation. Figuring something out. "It's been my experience that usually if people say they're fine, and it doesn't seem like it at all, they're probably not telling the truth."

"I don't know why he would lie to me."

"Maybe he wants to protect you."

"From what?"

She shrugged. "Ignorance is bliss, I guess. Something going on with him that he thinks will hurt you if you know."

"It hurts me that I don't know."

"Yeah. But I don't think he's realizing that."

He wished he would. Worrying about the unknown was such a waste of energy.

-

The first time he had seen Marissa was a couple of months after they had gotten married. That wasn't the first time they had met, though. Just the first time he had seen her professionally. To talk.

They had met because she used to be Adam's boss. Before the war. He didn't work for her after that, but he had before. Something with marine biology, he guessed. He had never really asked for the details. They knew each other, though, and Adam had told him once that she didn't seem the type to be a therapist. Had a degree in psychotherapy, but ended up in marine biology. Weird. Diverse, he guessed. More diverse than he would ever be.

They had been friends, and somehow she had become Adam's therapist. He wasn't sure why. He had never asked.

It wasn't long afterward that he had started having nightmares, seriously bad and chronic ones a couple of months after they had gotten married, and Adam had suggested he go to her. To try to alleviate them. And make his memories of the war and their situation less bad than they had been. Or appear to be, at least. He would never forget how awful it had truly been.

He hadn't known what to expect when he first went to see her. A little nervous, but that was more than understandable. And their first meeting hadn't been that bad, really. Just normal getting to know each other. Nothing weird.

It was the following visits that made him feel awkward. It wasn't anything she had done, really, just him being weak. He hated himself for it.

_And why do you think they tortured you?_

He didn't know. Stop blaming him. It wasn't his fault.

_I'm not saying at all that it's your fault. I'm just wondering why you think they took you in._

I don't know. Stop.

Hid his face in his hands. Stupid. He should be more mature than that.

_Okay._

But the next meeting, she went back to it.

_I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I think it would really be helpful if we talked about it._

It makes me sick.

_I know. But we can make you feel all right._

I don't know.

Nearly cried. He was ridiculous.

_It was just you two there, right? No one else from the ship?_

I don't know. I don't think so. We were the only ones who went back.

_Hm. That's interesting._

Yeah.

It wasn't that interesting. The memory of it sent chills down his spine, down his entire body. He didn't want to think about it, not at all. Had to. She was making him think about it, and he ached. So much.

_How long were you there?_

I don't know. Hours.

_They didn't feed you?_

No.

_Were you hungry?_

Absolutely. Thirsty too. They didn't give us any water either.

_That was probably their way of trying to weaken you._

It worked.

_I wouldn't say that. I think you both are incredibly strong._

Huh.

He didn't believe it. Especially not him. He had to be the least strong person who had ever existed.

_How about after you were with the woman? What was that like?_

Like, before or after the guy talked to me?

_Both._

Uh. Adam was bleeding.

That was all he remembered. Adam, bleeding everywhere. Out of his forehead and cheekbones and throat, places he had kissed him multiple times that one night and day they were together. On the ship, when things were so much better and so much happier, and so much safer. Maybe they had known that all along.

Do you think they... knew about us? That we were together?

_What do you think?_

I don't know. I don't know why it was just us. Maybe it was just a coincidence that they took us.

_Do you think it was?_

They didn't say anything like that. About our relationship. But it feels like they assumed that we were together. Like, together.

_And you were._

Yeah. But we had just gotten together. And we hadn't seen each other in like a week. Or more. So I don't know why they chose us.

_I won't say anything definitive, but there is a chance that they knew._

That was what scared him.

-

She had so many questions about the torture. About what had happened. About how he felt about it, then and now, and what he thought that they had thought, and about Adam. He ached so much.

He found less words to say as time went on, or perhaps his motivation and ability to speak about it lessened. Eventually he resorted to either nodding or shaking his head as fill ins for responses, or he just sat there, trying to force himself to talk. He couldn't.

Marissa understood, somehow.

I can't remember.

_What?_

I... I don't know what happened. I don't know what I imagined, and what I didn't, and what they...

Couldn't finish the sentence.

The guy... he told me it was...

_Yes?_

My fault. All my fault.

Sympathetic. _It wasn't._

I don't know.

It _was_ his fault. All his fault.

I don't even know if I imagined the whole thing or if it actually happened. Adam says it happened, but maybe I'm... imagining that too.

_I don't think you are._

But it feels like it.

Everything was clouded, a blur. He was reaching for the memories, trying to sharpen his mind to point out the specific details, to try to relive it; he couldn't. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe he was making up stuff now.

He really could not tell.

-

He asked Adam, once. Twice. Many, many times. Had it really happened? Did you go through it, too?

The first time he asked him, he had been genuinely surprised. _What do you mean?_

I... I don't feel right.

Somehow, he understood.

 _Yes, of course it happened._ Not belittling, just factual. _We went through it, and you have every right to feel hurt by it._

He didn't know how he knew about that. He hadn't told him. Showed him, though, yes. Of course he knew.

I...

He didn't know what to say. I think my brain is malfunctioning? I can't decide whether to trust that guy or not? I'm scared? He told him all three.

_Your brain isn't malfunctioning. It's reacting in the exact way it should be._

He wished it would stop.

_You're not broken, don't even think that. And as for the dude back on the ship, he's full of crap. He's nothing._

He wished he could truly believe that. He accepted it, but he couldn't fully realize it.

_And I'm scared too, you know._

He sure didn't seem like it. He seemed like he had gotten a paper cut and that was the extent of his injuries, inwardly and outwardly. Scared? Then why wasn't he having nightmares or anything?

He asked him that last question.

 _I don't know. I kind of feel like I should be having them._ Laughed, quietly and bitterly. _I deserve them more than you._

He wanted to refute that, but he couldn't. He was so tired.

-

His nightmares worsened as time went on. At first he only got them sporadically, once in a while, when he had been having a bad day and henceforth had a bad night. The first one was horrible.

If he recalled correctly (which was becoming steadily harder and harder to do), it had been about him and Adam, but it hadn't been about him and Adam. Not the him and Adam that he knew, anyway. They hated each other, in his nightmare. Had been happily married once upon a time, but something had gone wrong, and now they hated each other, and had shouted and yelled at each other practically every day. And Adam had left, left him forever, told him he hated him and he had ruined his life, and he had deserved it. Ripped up their marriage certificate. That was when he woke up, sweating and breathing quickly and heavily and hurting everywhere.

He had awakened Adam, too, probably by his sudden crying. He had leaned over and comforted him, as he always would every time that happened. And he talked to him. Talked him through the panic and the tears, talked to him about their relationship and how much they really did, truly and completely, loved each other, and told him something he hadn't known before.

He told him that before meeting him his life was mediocre at best. And he was miserable, tired, and unmotivated. And had nothing to do with his life, only boring jobs that he despised going to but couldn't quit. But when he met him everything changed, even though the smaller things didn't. And when he married him he realized that it was all over, and they both had made it to happiness.

Funny how he hadn't realized that. They really had made it through and found their happy ending. Ha. Not so happy now, though.

He wished he could do nothing with his life but talk to Adam. About everything, every little idea that had been thought up by man throughout the course of time. Even ideas that hadn't been thought of before, that they would create between themselves. They had done that the first day they were together, all those months and years before. Spent on the ship, lying next to and on each other, just talking about whatever came to their minds, sometimes stupid, sometimes not. What he would give to have that level of contentment back. That level of personal comfort and security. That level of newness. He felt like he was rotting nowadays. Evaporating or melting. Going away.

Adam was fine, most likely. The odds that he weren't were laughable. Adam was perfect, living the ideal life. Adam didn't have to deal with nightmares himself; he only had to deal with comforting him in the middle of the night. Adam wasn't pressured by his brain every second to die off and explode, or perhaps just fall on the ground and decompose on the spot. Adam didn't live in constant fear of nothing, or of ideas so close to nothing they weren't even worth mentioning. Adam had it easy.

Adam was the one who had been physically tortured. Why was he okay? He envied him for it, sometimes. He had it so easy compared to him.

Gross. He shouldn't be thinking that way. This was why he had nightmares of them breaking up, probably. Ugh.

He would talk to Adam, eventually, about everything. Somehow, he was still a better source of relief and comfort than Marissa. Maybe it was the simple fact that he was married to him and not her, but he still felt bad about it. He wished it weren't that way. But it was, and he would have to get out of his zone of idealism and toughen up. He hated that too. 

What he would give for a break.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a cuter chapter

It was he had been a teenager when he had gotten into photography. It was only the smallest of hobbies at first, sometime he liked to do on the occasional long vacation with his family, but it still brought him a sense of pleasure and enjoyment. It probably came from freedom - he was given full charge and ownership of their old family camera, and was able to take as many pictures of whatever he wanted (up to a point, of course, the point being when the camera ran out of film). And he had an eye. That was what his dad had told him once. He had an eye.

He had always replied with the fact that he had _two eyes, not one, silly Dad._ It was a joke, but not a particularly humorous one.

He had had longer hair then, a long dark mop of hair that just reached his shoulders. He always felt that it made him look like a girl, but as an adult he looked back at pictures of him at that stage and he really didn't look all that bad. The insecurity of teenagers involving their appearance was mystical.

What didn't intensify his insecurity so much was the fact that he wore glasses, too, big bulky ones that had been popular in the eighties but he continued to wear in the early two thousands. He could have easily been made fun of for them, seeing as they were ridiculous, but he wasn't. Not for that, of all things. Glasses weren't so much of an acceptable target anymore.

He made fun of them when he showed pictures of his tinier self to Adam, but he really had liked them. They made him feel smart, somehow. Intelligent, not well dressed. He would never really be either, in his opinion, but it was always good to feel like he was.

Dark hair, glasses. A bit of a squeaky voice; it didn't really deepen until he was just past seventeen, which was something he very much disliked at the time. It was all right now, though. A forgotten thing of the past.

One summer, at the age of sixteen, he had been clunky and awkward and pretending not to be, and his parents had given him the camera, and said why don't you take pictures of the trees and all. Maybe some birds if you find them. He had never cared for birds, but he liked the idea of trees. He could point them up to the very top, where they all converged and reached towards the heavens, and it framed everything so nicely. 

He had stumbled over a lot of things. Branches, mostly, but also his thoughts. Himself. Who was he? Rick. Rick Jr., age seventeen, bored. That was about it.

They had left him alone for the most part, which he had enjoyed at the time but wasn't too thankful for now. Why had they left him alone? Probably because he was obnoxious. He had never been one to talk much, but when he did he would never shut up. Usually talked about stupid things, anyway. Like TV shows or books or what would happen if aliens landed on Earth and they blew up the universe.

(Would that be considered a murder-suicide? No, because there would be no humans around to label it. It was certainly a stupid line of thought, but it was interesting, too.)

Anyway, they had gone on a trip. To a lake, funnily enough. The name of it had slipped from his mind long ago, as it blended in and blurred with all the other quite identical lakes he had visited in the span of his life time. The waters had been unusually clear, though, so much that he remembered his mom, or it might have been his dad, or someone, saying that you could drink it. He wasn't sure about that, but it was crystal clear. Hm.

(He should go back there. Find it somehow, ask his parents, probably his mom, she would know. Take Adam. Adam would love it to death. Big nerd.)

_(Remember that lake we went to when I was seventeen? What? You don't remember what year? Thanks, now I feel old.)_

That was his first landscape picture. He had stood on the edge of a rock among a large pile of identical, but slightly smaller, rocks and boulders and pebbles. The sun sparkled merrily on the surface of the lake, and the trees provided a perfect backdrop. If you looked closely, you might even be able to look past the surface to see rocks and plants and maybe even fish (were there fish? He couldn't remember). He stood there, and he held the camera up to his eye, and concentrated on getting that whole postcard fitting view squished into the lens. He did, somehow, and he loved that picture to death.

He bet his mom still had it stashed somewhere, hidden under a pile of old certificates and bills and papers he had colored on once as a kid. She kept stuff like that. Familial love was weird.

He should find it to show Adam. He should call his mom, too. He should do a whole lot of things.

-

His teenage life was as awkward as it could be and was not an era he was particularly fond of. It had been a time when he wasn't sure of himself, and felt the pangs of constant change in both his life and himself. It had been a time when he barely spoke to anyone, preferring to stay in the background. He had gotten used to that pretty quickly.

His parents called him shy, and that had been his defining trait since he was a toddler. He really had been when he was small, always hiding behind people's (usually his mom's) legs and never removing his gaze from the ground. As a teenager, though? He was just asocial. Didn't like people much, and they didn't care for him.

That was a trait that had carried to adulthood, sadly. At least Adam liked him.

He did have friends, though. Two. They were brothers, one his age and the other two years younger. They had hung out and talked about stuff. Not anything in particular, just _stuff_. They liked each other. It was good.

He hadn't seen them in years. They had planned on keeping in touch after graduation, but he had gone to community college and they had done... whatever it was that they had done, and they stopped talking. He wasn't even sure where either of them were now. Too bad.

There hadn't been a huge audience at his and Adam's wedding.

-

When he was in tenth grade, he developed a crush on a boy in his biology class. It was his first huge crush, and it had been horrible. He had told Adam about it once, way back when they were really getting to know one another, and talked, just talked, about their lives.

"I didn't have much until tenth grade when I took biology and my lab partner was this cute dude with dark hair and glasses, and _boy_ did I have a crush."

"Dark hair?"

"Yep."

"You seem to have a thing for that."

He had leaned his head down and ran his fingers through Adam's hair. It was dark, too, of course. "I think I do. Lots of continuity. I'm boring."

"No you aren't. Anyway, I don't think you should question your choice in crushes."

"Nope. Especially when I'm with you."

Adam had snuggled down against his chest even more than he had been, and it was wonderful. He was so incredibly warm. "Go on with your story."

"Okay. So I had this dude, my biology lab partner. You can imagine what my grade in that class was. Not very good. Not horrible, but not good. It might have been just because I'm not that great at biology, but I blame my lab partner. Unfortunately, the school year ended and I didn't have any classes with him the next year, so I didn't see much of him after that."

He hadn't, really. Once or twice he had walked past him on the way to class or during lunch or at random parts of the day, and he had been thoroughly embarrassed. Didn't blush or anything, but felt like he would much like to sink into the ground right at that moment.

He couldn't even remember his name now. He could remember his hair, though. Very luscious. Shampooed and conditioned often, probably. Adam's was better.

He wasn't sure why he had told him about his crushes. Adam hadn't told him about his; the conversation had diverged, and he had never gotten to know. And there they were now, a year into their marriage, and he still didn't know. Huh.

It probably wasn't anything to worry about, but still. He was curious. Might ask him later. Eventually.

-

There were some interesting things to note about what he had told Adam, about the guy he had had a crush on in tenth grade. For one, he had actually been rather good at biology. It was something that interested him; that was one of many things that had attracted him to Adam when they had met. Biology was certainly more fascinating than any of the other sciences, and he had been kind of eager to be in the class (at least as eager a fifteen year old boy can get about school). Biology was just cool. It was the boy that had ruined it for him. He sat a row behind him and a column next to him, so he had a good view of his hair for the majority of the class time. Nice. He had had a well shaped face, too. If he recalled correctly. He could very well be biased; he tended to be about certain memories.

Also, the boy had had dark hair and glasses. He had also had dark hair and glasses. That was something that had always bemused him. Weren't opposites supposed to attract? That couldn't be the case with him, as they looked rather alike indeed. Was he messed up? Probably.

He had kept all of this to himself, of course. Telling someone about his crush would be akin to suicide. Nope, not even those two friends of his had known.

Adam knew. Adam knew pretty much every little detail about his past. Stuff he had forgotten by now, but had told Adam before it disappeared. Adam remembered. Adam had a sharp memory; he had once had a sharp memory, too, but that was gone now too. A pity.

He should ask his mom for a picture of himself. He had forgotten what he had looked like; just the dark hair and glasses remained in his hazy memories. It would be nice to refresh them, to add more details and context. Plus, Adam would get a real kick out of seeing a younger him.

He would like to see a picture of a younger Adam, too. That would be funny. And cute, probably.

-

"Do you think we would have dated each other if we knew each other in high school?"

Adam had laughed. "Oh my gosh. I don't know."

"I was shy. Maybe I wouldn't have even talked to you."

"I was shy too, maybe we would have bonded over that."

That warmed his heart. Adam, once tiny and shy. Just like him. He could just barely imagine it. "Maybe."

"I think we could have become friends. We would probably be best friends, eventually."

"And hung out with no one but ourselves."

"Aw. Yeah, I bet we would have dated. If we knew each other."

"Imagine that. We would probably hide it from everyone."

"Kiss each other in the back of the library where no one could see. Ha."

"I can see that. We would hide it."

"Us? No, we're just friends."

"Really good friends."

"Very close. Sometimes physically."

They both laughed at that.

"Oh, no. We're ridiculous."

"We really are." He loved talking to Adam about stuff like this. Stupid and completely without a point. The best conversations.

-

"Hey Mom, do you have any pictures of me when I was younger?"

She laughed. "What for?"

"I don't know. I just realized I don't have any."

"Aw. Yes, I have some, of course. What kind of mom do you take me to be?"

"A great one."

"Thanks, dear. You can get them the next time you come here."

That was a ploy to get him to visit her, he knew it. It would work. "I guess that'll have to be soon, then."

"I suppose it will be." Teasing him. She really was great.

"All right. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. Bye."

"Bye." He hung up the phone. This would be interesting.

-

He didn't see her immediately after the call, but about a week later. A few days before his and Adam's anniversary; they were having a small celebration with her for it early, before they left. She had even made them a cake.

"Chocolate? Thanks, Mom."

"I bet our wedding one was better." Adam. Being dumb.

"Never."

"After dinner." His mom.

"Can it _be_ dinner?" Him. Cheeky.

"Nope."

"Aw."

"Oh, you wanted to see pictures." She had been planning that all along. Segue into the conversation. _Oh, by the way, remember the pictures?_

"What pictures?" Adam.

"Pictures of me."

"From when?"

"When I was a kid."

"Oh, really? I've got to see these."

"You're very much welcome to." He wanted to see his reaction. He would probably laugh, and it would be great.

-

Adam did laugh. Heartily. Laughed at him in the picture, laughed at him in real life. "Aw, _man,_ look at those glasses."

"I swear it wasn't the eighties."

"Are you sure? You would fit right in."

"I think the real thing we should notice here is the fact that I have a camera. A real nice one."

"You never change, do you?" Shook his head. Still had a hint of a smirk on his face. "Give me that again."

He handed Adam the picture, and he laughed again. "I can't _believe_ this."

"I can." He remembered it now, like he figured he would. All came flooding back to him. Yeah, it had been a moderately good period of his life.

"You were a lot cuter then, though."

"Was I?" His mom was back in the living room, paying no attention to them at all.

A hint of an evil glare was in his eye. "Much cuter."

"You lie."

"I don't. Look at this picture." He waved it around. "A young nerd with huge glasses and a stupid haircut. You couldn't be cuter. What happened?"

"I married you and got ugly."

"What a burn." Stepped closer. "Fight me."

"I might."

"Do it."

He leaned in and kissed him. He had the opportunity to do so, with him being less than a foot away from his face. "I can think of something else I would rather be doing, actually."

"Not at your mom's house, Rick."

"I didn't say here."

"Later?"

"Definitely."

The smirk returned. "Fine. But I'm keeping this picture."

"Go ahead." He would give it back, of course. He was too moral for anything else.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW I apologize

"Oh, God, you're good."  
  
Kissed him. So sloppily. He was never too coordinated when he was like this. "Don't swear."  
  
"Swear?" Kissed him back.  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"You filthy hypocrite." Threaded his fingers through his hair. "You do it all the goddamn time."  
  
"Again with the swearing." He loved it. He was practically vibrating. Disgusting.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
He did so by kissing him again. Violently. Shoved himself against him, and not just his lips. He was shoved backwards. It felt good.  
  
Broke off. "I could do a lot worse."  
  
"I don't want to imagine it." Poor Adam. He was spewing with lies.  
  
He pulled him forward, so that his lips rested next to the side of his head. Whispered in his ear. Felt Adam go all hot.  
  
"You're a baby." Didn't whisper that part.  
  
"Hm." He was becoming speechless. Good. That was the best part.  
  
Whispered again.  
  
 _How would you like it if I just flipped you over and did whatever I freaking want with you_  
  
"Stop."  
  
Sometimes he could tell if he really wanted him to stop or not. This wasn't one of those times. "Huh?"  
  
Closed his eyes. "Never mind."  
  
Obviously he didn't. He leaned in just a bit and kissed his neck. Up. Up and up. Trailing them. Pressed his mouth, left small traces of saliva.  
  
 _Hm you know what_  
  
"What."  
  
 _I'd like to say you're pretty damn sexy, but that would be a gross understatement._  
  
"Would it."  
  
 _They haven't invented a word for how absolutely delicious you are._  
  
"Mm."  
  
 _Nope. Although I think other languages can suffice. For instance, in France they say something along the lines of 'Je veux vas te faire encule'_  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. I might be mispronouncing it, too. I was never good at French."  
  
"But you know that."  
  
"I lied."  
  
"Oh." Nearly speechless. He needed to get him to that point. It was so much fun after that.  
  
"I took three years of French." He had. He had quit it senior year, because he wasn't a requirement anymore. His teacher was awful. Made him write essays.  
  
"I didn't know that."  
  
"There are a few things you don't know about me." Practically purred that. Softened his voice. Adam blinked. Good.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Mm hmm. Like how good I am in bed."  
  
"I know that."  
  
"Do you?" He flipped him over. Like he said he would. Lightly, but enough to make Adam look surprised. Gooood.  
  
Leaned in to him. Jammed his leg in between Adam's. Kissed his ear. Whispered again.  
  
 _I said I would._  
  
Blinked rapidly. "I forgot." Sounded like an afterthought.  
  
"You are adorable."  
  
He wrinkled his nose. "Nah."  
  
"Oh, I think so." Smiled. Kissed his lips. "Some other adjectives, too."  
  
"Which ones?"

"Hey, I'm the one talking to you." Back to whispering, he supposed. Stroked his fingers down his side, just to add an effect. It worked; Adam shivered. He had him under some sort of spell.  
  
 _Close your eyes_  
  
They had been opened. Closed now.  
  
 _What are you thinking?_  
  
"Mm." Again.  
  
 _Sorry?_  
  
"You're hot." Amazing. He loved him.  
  
 _That's it?_  
  
"That's the main thing, yeah."  
  
 _Hot? Like a stove?_  
  
"Hotter."  
  
 _Like the surface of the sun?_  
  
"Doesn't come close."  
  
 _Aw, you flirt._  
  
Time to deepen.  
  
 _You know what I said in French?_  
  
"What?"  
  
 _It's vulgar._  
  
"Oh."  
  
 _You think I was a pretty innocent little kid, huh? Not always. I did learn_ some _foreign swear words._  
  
"Oh."  
  
 _Like 'encule.' Guess what that means._  
  
"Something vulgar?"  
  
 _Guess._  
  
"Have sex with?"  
  
 _Mm, close enough. The vulgar version._  
  
He opened his eyes. "Rick." Even when he was turned on, he still disapproved.  
  
 _Ha, you love it._  
  
"Nope." He did.  
  
 _Mm, encule me, you bad boy._  
  
"What?"  
  
 _You heard me._  
  
"You're just being dumb now."  
  
He was. Needed to get off that train of thought. Too funny, not sexy enough.  
  
Kissed his earlobe. Adam shifted. Bit it. He groaned under his breath.  
  
"Mmfm."  
  
Dragged along it a bit with his teeth. Let go. Kissed it again. Kissed his neck, too.  
  
"Adam, frick, you're so damn delicious." Didn't even whisper it. Meant it.  
  
"Oh." Blinked rapidly again. Swallowed. He felt it, kissing and licking his neck.  
  
"Shut up." Now he was getting ahead of himself. Kissed, kissed, kissed. Rubbed his hand on his chest. Warm, but sweaty. He was too.  
  
 _Stay here forever._  
  
"Where?"  
  
 _Where you are right now._  
  
"I could, I guess."  
  
Kissed his mouth again, just to make him shut up. Sucked on his bottom lip. Let go. Kissed his cheek. And his chin. And his neck, again, just because.  
  
 _To be honest you really are damn good_  
  
"Oh?"  
  
 _Yeah yeah you are you really are_  
  
Said nothing.  
  
He sighed. Exhaled. Against his neck. He didn't really want to move away from it, ever.  
  
 _Remember that one night in March before we got married_  
  
"Which one?"  
  
 _You know which one the one where I just talked and talked and said what I wanna do with you_  
  
"Oh. Yeah."  
  
 _All of it still applies_  
  
Blinked.  
  
 _I wanna do so much stuff with you_  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
 _Mmhmm_  
  
"You should."  
  
 _You should shut up._  
  
Nibbled at the side of his chin. He had a bit of stubble that he always kept just for him, just for that. It was a bit scratchy but not overly so. So good.  
  
"What are we gonna do on our honeymoon?"  
  
"Didn't we plan this out?"  
  
"We planned out some of it, yeah." Honestly, he could be so dense sometimes. Didn't get things right away. It was fun to play with.  
  
He got it. "We're gonna make the maid sorry is what we're gonna do."  
  
"I was thinking there wouldn't be a maid."  
  
"There are always maids in hotels."  
  
"We don't have to always be in a hotel. And not always in a bed."  
  
"Oh." He said that a lot.  
  
"Shut up." He said that a lot, too. It never went in to full effect.  
  
Slowly went down. Shifted. Kissed everywhere. So much skin, kissed so many times, all by him.  
  
"Mm get a little bit more down."  
  
"How much more?"  
  
"A loooot."  
  
"Thought so."  
  
-  
  
"Stop being disgusting."  
  
Afterwards. They were disgusting.  
  
"You stop."  
  
"You're the one who never shuts up. And you tell me to shut up. Annoying." He wasn't annoyed.  
  
"You weren't like this before the war." Stupid joke they had.  
  
"Shut up. Honestly."  
  
"Mad at me?"  
  
He so was. Man, he loved dragging things out. Especially orgasms.  
  
"I am."  
  
"Good. You're a mess."  
  
"You're always a mess."  
  
"You have the best burns. Man! That hurt."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"No."  
  
They needed to go to sleep. It was half past twelve, and the moon was high in the sky. They were both very much wide awake.  
  
"Fine, fine, I won't do it again."  
  
"You will." He would.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"You disgust me."  
  
"So I've heard. Are you going to have a temper tantrum for the rest of your life?"  
  
"Are you going to be annoying for the rest of yours?"  
  
"Do you know any other adjectives?"  
  
"Do _you?_ "  
  
"Harsh. So harsh."  
  
"I hope it hurts."  
  
"It does."  
  
"Good."  
  
He couldn't tell if he were really and truly mad or not. He might even be both. He was weird like that.  
  
"Round two?"  
  
"God, yes."  
  
See? Hypocrite.  
  
-  
  
"I'd like to congratulate you. That is now the fourth time you've made me come twice in one night. You're my hero."  
  
Was that sarcastic? He was the real annoying one.  
  
"Making fun of me?"  
  
"Huh? No."  
  
Not sarcastic. Hm.  
  
"I bet I can make it three."  
  
"Can you?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
If it were possible to make the night even more darkened than before, it was happening then. He could barely see Adam's face. Screw the idea that they needed better curtains.  
  
They didn't really need the ability to see, though.  
  
"I notice you haven't done the same to me, though."  
  
"Hm." It really was too bad that he couldn't really see Adam's face. It would be much easier to figure out how he felt.  
  
"Now's your chance."  
  
Somehow, he could tell that he was looking at him. Gazing. Not just at his face.  
  
He closed his eyes. Felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. He allowed it to do so.  
  
The bed was so comfortable.  
  
Sucking on his neck. Sucking. Aw, man, so much better than kissing.  
  
He didn't whisper. Didn't even talk when he didn't need to. Just kissed his skin with various degrees of intensity. So good.  
  
"I could, you know."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hmm, what you told me to do."  
  
"Oh." His turn to say that.  
  
"Twice?"  
  
"Try it."  
  
"Will do."  
  
He would. Nice.  
  
-  
  
He did.  
  
Breathing in and out, slowly and heavily but not too audibly. Either couldn't open his eyes or didn't want to. Adam lying next to him. Adam forever lying next to him.  
  
"Adam." Nothing else on his mind.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"God, get over here." Pulled him closer. He lied on top of him, or at least quite close to it.  
  
Kissed his lips, quickly and briefly. Softly, too, nothing like before. "What do you want?"  
  
"You, babe, forever." So cheesy.  
  
"All right, shh. Go to sleep."  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
"Yes. Sleep is required for a good day."  
  
"What about a good night?"  
  
"That too."  
  
"Oh. I guess that's good."  
  
"I like to think it is." Kissed him again. "Good night."  
  
"Sweet dreams." Wished it on him.  
  
-  
  
Didn't receive that wish in return. Woke up, again, had to have been an hour later, sweating but not like from before, breathing heavily but not like from before, couldn't move, chest hurting, "Adam," not like from before.  
  
Adam wake up.  
  
"Adam?"  
  
Adam woke up.  
  
"Hm, what?"  
  
"You need to get away they're gonna get you." He had to protect him but he couldn't even get out of bed, couldn't even move, what was wrong with him, he needed to do something, get Adam away - "They're gonna come back and and and hurt you and I got to do something make them stop -"  
  
"Okay, okay, talk slower." Maybe none of that was intelligible. Probably. "What's happening?"  
  
There was no one there coming to get him. They weren't coming back to harm him. Stupid. "...Nightmare."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Y - you -"  
  
"Me?"  
  
Nodded. Swallowed, his mouth was so dry. "I don't want -"  
  
He started crying. Tears, so many tears, and his nose was running too, gross, and his throat was all clogged up, and so many tears, so much that he could have drowned in them. Breathing was so hard, he was twenty-six, shouldn't he have long since learned how to breathe properly by now?  
  
Adam was thirty. Four years older than him.  
  
Let him cry. Held him, his arms felt so nice, like heaven, but better. He cried so much he probably soaked him. He didn't seem to mind. Just held him, kissed his forehead, hummed something that he didn't listen to.  
  
He didn't even know if he was scared anymore. He just cried. That was his only emotion: crying. It wouldn't stop.  
  
"I don't want any person to hurt you ever again." He could say a full sentence, at least that was something. Even if it was choked out.  
  
"Well, I can tell you, you're doing a great job of that."  
  
Oh.  
  
He buried his face in to Adam's chest. It was so warm. So comforting. Cried some more. He didn't have a shirt on, obviously. Neither did he, obviously.  
  
"I don't want anyone to hurt you in my dreams either."  
  
"I have less control over that." Still holding him. He never wanted him to let go. "But you're awake now. That's better, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't know." It was, and it wasn't. Actually, it was better. He didn't have Adam to hold him in his nightmares. Often times, he had a complete lack of Adam, or an Adam that wasn't living, which was far worse.  
  
The thought of that made him choke out tears again. Adam said nothing.  
  
"Close your eyes." Said something.  
  
"I don't want to." Nightmares would come back.  
  
"They won't come back. Close 'em."  
  
He did. Somehow, it calmed him, even if it were just by a margin.  
  
"Imagine we're on a beach," he said. "Not any we've ever been to. A nice, warm one. With palm trees. And it's sunset, and the sky is purple and orange and dark blue at the tippy top. The sand is soft and firm and not at all gritty, and it's been heated all day by the sun and the people that have been on it. But now it's a pretty sunset, and it's just us there."  
  
"Like on our honeymoon?"  
  
"Sort of. Everyone else has gone home, but we're there, and it's a shame that no one else gets to experience it, because it's just so nice. And we're walking. Down and down the beach, on the sand. The wind's blowing in our faces, but it's only a light breeze. The sunset's reflected on your face, and on mine too. And you look at me and what do you say?"  
  
"You're beautiful." Natural response.  
  
"And I say you're beautiful back. And that's all we need. There are no crazy people watching us, no lunatics chasing after us, just us. Me and you. You and me. You're the calmest you've ever been, and it's wonderful."  
  
Somehow, that had fixed things better than anything Marissa had ever advised.  
  
He leaned his head on his shoulder, like he had done so many times before. "Do you plan out these things beforehand?"  
  
"Sometimes."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Saltwater Room" © Adam Young

"What did you do on your honeymoon?"

She was trying to get him to remember things. He had told her his brain had been all foggy, and it was weird, and he didn't like it, and he was having trouble remembering things, so she asked him questions. Like that one.

What had they done on their honeymoon? It wasn't a quick and easy question to answer.

"Not much." Now it would be a struggle to remember. He lied back on the couch, tried to let out some tension. Stared off at a spot in the distance.

"We went to California."

"Oh, really? Where?"

"Southern... outside of Los Angeles. We kind of went around that area." They had had the same hotel, but had driven around to various places in the area each day. Not in the city - outside it, where there were surprisingly fewer people. It was magical.

"Did you go to the beach?"

He blinked. "Yeah. Definitely. We actually..."

Should he tell her? It seemed private. Maybe Adam wouldn't like him telling her.

"Spent a lot of time there."

That was the truth, albeit a very vague one. They had indeed spent a lot of time there.

\- 2016 -

It was the third day, and for some reason that neither of them would ever find out, the beach was practically deserted. They had been driving around, relaxing and talking and basically doing nothing of importance, when they had stopped there for the simple reason that it was deserted. Hidden, almost, a bit of a walk away from the road, small and simple.

Once they had reached the sand, they had kicked off their shoes. Left them at the edge of the gravel. They almost forgot them later.

It was amazing that there was no one there, because it was a perfect day to be there. The sun wasn't too hot, and there was the slightest breeze in the air, and the air itself was just the perfect level of balmy, but not exactly wet, humidity. Yet there was no one in sight, save for them.

What had they done? They had shed their clothes, because there was no one there, and gone into the ocean, because there was no one there, and despite their recent marriage, they still had the right to act like kids.

That hadn't lasted too long. The water was cold, after all, and they didn't have swim suits on of any sort, and the water was salty and kept finding its way up their noses, which burnt and felt weird. Plus Adam kept splashing water at him and laughing, which was amusing to him, he supposed, but he hated it, so he made him stop.

Adam had bought a large beach towel earlier, and he ran hurriedly to the car and came back a few seconds later, stood in front of him (literally in front of him, about half a foot away), and draped it around them. They shivered together.

"Bad idea," he said.

"What?" said Adam. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, and he kept looking at him like he was in on some joke that no one else in the world knew of. Why had he married him? Weirdo.

"Swimming."

"I got you naked." He laughed heartily.

He rolled his eyes. "Stop."

"Aw, are you cold?" He held the towel closer to him, and rubbed it up and down his arms. "There."

"That just makes it itch."

He stopped. "Sorry."

"No biggie." He left from the towel cluster and Adam wrapped it around himself like a cape. They walked down the stretch of sand, stepping out of the waves' way and not saying a thing to each other.

"I have a song," said Adam abruptly. He looked at him.

"What, that you made up?"

"Uh huh. It goes like this: You and me, on the beach, isn't it sweet, la da dee, Adam and Ricky -"

"If you call me that again I'm going to push you in to the ocean."

"Do it, I dare you."

He didn't. They continued walking.

"I bet you could write a legit song," he said. "Not a stupid one, like that one."

"That wasn't stupid, it was pure and undiluted genius. Anyway, I don't know."

"You totally could."

"I'll try." He paused for a second. "What's it about?"

"I don't know, it's your song."

"True. Um, uhh. All I can think of is that last one."

"Ugh. I guess all good songs have crappy lyrics."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll add more rhymes. What else has an 'e' sound?"

"Neat. Bee. Neat bee."

"You're horrible at this. I could use neat, though. The beach is neat. It's pretty sweet. Sand under our feet. Um..."

"This song's got a nice beat."

"There we go!"

"It doesn't, by the way."

"Aw."

They stayed there for the whole day, or at least the half day that they were there. Sat down on the sand, which turned into lying down, which turned into Adam giving him a back massage.

"Ow, you're horrible at this."

"Can't be worse than my song writing skills." He squeezed his shoulders, digging his thumbs into his back. "I could do worse."

"True." It wasn't really that bad. He just liked messing with him.

The air was starting to cool, and they got up and continued their walk down the stretch of sand. The beach wasn't exceptionally large, but they dawdled enough to make it seem longer. Late afternoon was always nice.

\- 2017 -

"Where did you go after that?"

The direction this conversation was going was beginning to make him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, trying to think of a way to avoid that question, or answer it in a way that wasn't awkward.

"Well, we went back to the hotel eventually." Eventually, yeah. After a while, so to speak.

"That night?" Damn it. She always got him.

"Um... no." His cheeks were probably red; they felt warmer than usual. He hated that about him. He blushed too easily and obviously.

"Where did you go, then?"

\- 2016 -

They hadn't gone anywhere. Not anywhere that wasn't the beach, anyway. Nope, they stayed there.

Had that beach towel, after all.

Just before the sun began to set, they had been walking, and Adam was humming again, singing some ridiculous song that he hadn't made up, from some band or singer that he had once liked. He personally had never heard of them, but he dealt with Adam's silliness regardless of that fact.

" _I opened my eyes... last night... and saw you in the low light... walking down by the bay on the shore..._ That's us."

"Is it?"

"Well, sort of. We're not by the bay, we're by the ocean. But we're walking on the shore."

"That's real clever, Adam."

"I know. Should I continue?"

"No."

He ignored him. " _Staring up at the stars that aren't there anymore..._ "

"We're not doing that."

There were a couple of stars in the sky. Early bloomers. He had no clue which ones they were.

"We could be."

"But we're not."

" _I was feeling the night grow old... and you were looking so cold..._ "

"I'm not cold."

" _So like an introvert... I drew my overshirt.._."

"Who wrote these lyrics? It's the worst crap I've ever heard."

Adam's voice rose in volume. " _Around my arms and began to shiver_ _violently..._ " He demonstrated this by pulling the towel closer to him and pretending to shiver.

"Those aren't even lyrics. They're not musical. They don't rhyme."

"What a critic you are. Want to hear more?"

"Never in a million years."

" _Before you happened to look... and see... the tunnels all around me... running in to the dark underground... all the subways around create a great sound..._ "

"This song makes no sense. None."

They were near the middle of the beach now, relatively close (as in within a short walking distance) to the car, but still far enough away that it was barely in sight. Nice.

" _To my motion fatigue: farewell._ "

"Not lyrics. And that doesn't even make any sense."

" _With your ear to a sea shell. You can hear the waves and underwater caves as if you actually were inside a saltwater room..._ "

"What's that? Hell?"

"No. It's a room filled with saltwater."

"Why? You can't drink that. It's like drowning in the ocean."

"It's pretty to think about."

"Sounds like a nightmare to me."

He was just teasing him, really. It did kind of sound pretty if he thought about it. Stretched his imagination.

"Anyway, it all exists in your head. If you hear the ocean sounds when you listen to a sea shell, you can imagine yourself in the ocean."

"Quaint. I can see why you like this. It's dumb."

"Aw."

They stepped onwards.

"See, the next part is a duet," said Adam. "So you would have to sing along."

"I can't do that for like three reasons."

"Which ones?"

"One, I don't want to do it. Two, I don't know the words. Three, I can't sing."

"I don't care about any of those. I'll tell you the lyrics."

He hummed apathetically. "Fine."

"Okay. _Time together is just never quite enough..._ "

"Do I sing that? Or you?"

"You do."

"Okay. Time... what?"

"Together is just never quite enough."

"What does that mean?"

"Use your brain."

He didn't want to. "Fine. Time together is just never quite enough." He said it, not sang. He would never sing, even for him. Adam said nothing.

" _When you and I are alone, I've never felt so at home..._ "

"Do I sing that part, too?"

"No."

"Good."

"The next line's yours. _What will it take to make or break this hint of love?_ "

"I can't remember that."

Adam scrunched his nose. "You're awful."

"I know."

"Fine, I'll do it. _What will it take to make or break this hint of love? Only time... only time..._ "

"It is kind of a cute song."

"Told you. _When we're apart whatever are you thinking of? If this is what I call home, why does it feel so_ _alone?_ "

"How do you remember all these lyrics?"

"Magic."

He didn't doubt it.

" _So tell me, darling, do you wish we'd fall in love? All the time... All the time..._ "

"You have a nice singing voice." He did. Very melodic, not at all out of tune. He would make a great singer professionally. Too bad he had gone into marine biology.

"Thanks." Didn't sound too affected. Maybe he didn't care. A pity.

"There are other verses."

He groaned. "All right, go ahead."

Adam continued singing. " _Can you believe that the crew has gone and they wouldn't let me sign on?_ "

"No, I can't believe it. Meaning, I can't believe that those are seriously the lyrics. What does that even mean?"

"I don't know. _...All my islands have sunk in the deep, and I can hardly relax or even oversleep..._ "

"Me neither."

" _But I feel warm with your hand in mine... while we walk along the shore line..._ " He looked at him, held out his hand, and winked.

He rolled his eyes and took it. His hand felt warm and cozy, as cozy as hands could be. They weren't really that far from the car after all.

\- 2017 -

"That doesn't seem that bad. He was just annoying you?"

"Well, yeah, but not in a real irritating way. He was just being him."

"Sounds like he's more open with you than with anyone else."

"Yeah, definitely." He wasn't really looking at her. Probably should have been. Still didn't want to answer the question as to where they spent the night.

"He's a great husband," he said. And he was, truly. He was sometimes just a bit overwhelming.

\- 2016 -

" _I guess we'll never know... why sparrows love the snow..._ "

"Oh, come on, those can _not_ be the lyrics."

"Why not?"

"Those are ridiculous. Where the heck did sparrows come from? And snow? Why do they love snow?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you even singing this?"

Adam grinned. "It's stuck in my head."

"Well, it's stuck in my head now, too, and I've never even heard it before. Just your awful singing."

He said nothing in response. Just shook his head, still smiling, still gripping his hand. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

"Shut up."

" _I guess we'll never know... why sparrows love the snow... we'll turn off all of the lights -_ "

With that he did a number of things, all at what had to be at a speed close to that of light. He let go of his hand, grabbed him, fell down on the ground and brought him and the towel down with him, and flipped him over so that he was on top of him.

"Come on, let's set this ballroom aglow."

He blinked. "What?"

"Next line." He very quickly straightened out bits of the towel that were crumpled up, and leaned down to kiss him. His lips were warm, probably from talking so much.

" _We'll turn off all of the lights and set this ballroom aglow..._ " he sang softly into his mouth.

"Cute," he murmured back. "Was this sort of thing the original intention of that song?"

"Probably not." Kissed him again, leaned in, pressed against him, his whole body was so damn warm. Harder kiss. Really wanted this - something.

He reached his hands out and stroked Adam's back, up from the back of his neck down, all over. Touched him. They both liked that. He liked it especially.

Adam hummed. "You ever had sex on a beach before?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

"Well, you're going to now."

"And I can never say that again."

He put a finger to his lips. That was warm too. "Shh. Shut up."

He took his finger away. "Make me."

They kissed again, a lot deeper, a lot more involved, ah, man, it was good -

\- 2017 -

Yeah, he should tell Marissa.

"We stayed on the beach."

"Overnight?"

"Yeah."

"How did you do that?"

He wished she wouldn't ask such intrusive questions. "We had a towel."

"A towel?"

"Yeah, a big beach towel. We slept on it. Looked up at the stars."

They had done that, too. Eventually. Adam loved looking at the stars, even though neither of them knew the names of any of them, let alone the constellations.

"That's sweet."

"Yeah, it was."

Good thing he didn't have to mention that neither of them had had clothes on for the whole night.

\- 2016 -

"It's a lot prettier over here."

They were both exhausted, sweaty, and gross. Disgusting. Abominable. Many other adjectives. They were lying next to each other, as close as they could be (but not as close as they had been).

"Yeah, it is. We should just live here."

"Ha. I wish. We would have to get food and water."

"And a job."

"Ew, a _job?_ This is my honeymoon."

"For how long?"

"Forever."

That would be nice if it went on forever. He wouldn't mind that in the slightest.

Adam kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." How many times had he told him that? A billion. Not enough.

"Stay with me forever?"

"Sure thing."

Without air pollution, there were thousands and millions and thousands of millions of stars that were visible, and all of them were spectacular.

"They don't compare to you."

Who had said that? Adam? Him? He didn't know or care.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which they celebrate their anniversary and I torture rick some more...sorry bb

\- 2017 -

Adam was quiet. In all the years that he had known him, he had always been a quiet guy, so it wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, but he was more so than usual, which was odd. Not talking much. Seemed like he was looking off into some imaginary distance. Thinking, maybe.

Sometimes he asked him questions, or said anything to him at all, and he didn't respond. Had to repeat it, and then he would. Sometimes in a voice that suggested he didn't really want to talk to him at all, which didn't really hurt but didn't exactly feel good either. And he didn't talk directly to him, sometimes not even in a response. But mostly not directly. Out there. Not the happy Adam he liked being around most.

He didn't want to ask about it, for fear of striking one of Adam's nerves by accident. It wasn't like he was afraid that he would leave him or anything (no matter how many times he tried to worry about that, he knew that it would never, ever happen), but he hated to see him in a bad mood. It hurt him, and it hurt Adam even more. Bad vibes all around.

So he didn't ask. Tried to ignore it, but put more of an effort into paying attention to him (more so than usual, even). Surprised him with kisses a couple of times, which they both loved. Adam would reciprocate those, at least. Every single time.

"I think we're lucky," said Adam.

"How so?"

"We could have easily transmitted several diseases to each other by the amount of times we've kissed each other. But we're both healthy."

"Is that the sort of stuff you think about?"

"Sometimes. A lot of the time completely random stuff just comes to mind. Like that."

His brain was a mystery to him. Just when he thought he completely understood him, he surprised him. Most of the time, it was in a good way.

Kissed him some more. He was practically addicted to his kisses. They were like drugs, but not harmful at all.

"Ew, stop, you're gross." Adam thought he was funny. He made the same stupid jokes in return, so he said nothing. Only smiled.

They parted after that, leaving to do their own things. He wasn't sure exactly what things were his own. Photography? He would get back to that eventually. Yeah. Eventually.

Lying around, that was his thing. And kissing Adam. Sometimes doing both at the same time.

He wasn't sure what Adam was doing, either. He hung out in various places around the house, and when he tried to look for him he was nowhere to be found. Sneaky.

-

Their anniversary came and went, and not a moment of it was particularly bad. They went to the lake, as planned, and he brought his camera, as planned. Got a lot of good shots of the nature around them, and Adam oohed and aahed at every one of them.

"Aw, come on, that one isn't even that great. Half of it isn't in focus, and the other half's all shadowed."

"I think it's wonderful."

He always used words like that. Wonderful. He was a wonderful person.

He took a lot of good looking pictures, though, and he was reasonably proud of those. All of them reflected some aspect of their honeymoon, and most of them were in focus, clear, sharp, and generally pleasing to look at. It was probably the most productive he had been in months. All he needed was to go outside and lose himself in his surroundings.

That opportunity didn't come to him too often.

He had gotten a lot of pictures of the lake, mostly. A lot of trees, some in the forefront, mostly in the background. Shimmering waters, reflecting them and the sky above.

They went in the water a couple of times. Not naked this time around; it was too cold to do that, and anyway, neither of them were anywhere near as energetic as they had been on their honeymoon. Just kind of waded, dipped their toes in, cooled down (it was pretty warm for early May). Mostly sat around outside it. It was deserted, which was the best part of the whole situation.

"This is just as good as our honeymoon," he had said at one point. "Not as... big, but still nice."

Adam had just nodded at that. Still oddly quiet, but he had blamed it on everything being simple and quiet. He didn't much want to talk either.

He walked around a lot, sometimes barefoot, his feet scraping the dampened dirt. Took pictures every so often. Rolled up his jeans to high above his ankles but not quite to his knees, climbed on top of rocks just to get the sunlight in the right position, sometimes shot his camera straight up to mirror the shot of the tree canopies he had taken as a kid. Never felt more alive, or at least hadn't felt that alive in a long time.

He took pictures of Adam, too, of course. Adam lying down, Adam sitting at the edge of the lake where the water met the dry ground, Adam standing up, Adam walking about, Adam with his feet immersed in the water. Adam smiling at him, Adam making faces at him, Adam blowing kisses at him, Adam giving him regular, physical kisses. Adam without his shirt on (those were just for him). Adam with his hair swept back in the breeze. Adam doing nothing at all, simply relaxing and enjoying himself. He was too.

To be truthful, the number of pictures of Adam was about equal to the number of pictures of the lake and its surroundings, if they didn't at least outnumber them.

They had had a hotel room, as there was no place to stay in the immediate vicinity of the lake. They hadn't stayed in it as long as they thought they would, though. They might have, but he wanted to get back there early to get pictures of everything in the fog and morning dew, when everything was fresh and ripe and shiny.

Adam respected that, he guessed. He went with him a couple of times, just to watch him or to point out things in the distance that he hadn't kept his eyes on, which he appreciated it. Other times he stayed in bed, and he let him without feeling bad about it. Sleep was good. He just didn't want it at that moment.

When they had eventually gone back home, he had compiled close to a thousand pictures, all of the same place, but most of them, in their own way, unique. He was immensely pleased about the whole thing, and it must have shown, because Adam kept smiling at him when he thought he wasn't looking and when he knew he was.

"What?"

"Did you have a good time?"

He always phrased it like that. Not "you look happy" or "that was fun." Ask him if he enjoyed it, when he knew for a fact that he did. Weirdo.

"I did, yeah."

"Good, me too." His smile grew, and his eyes shined. Very happy. Odd.

"Guess what."

"What?"

"I have a surprise for you."

Well, it would certainly be a surprise. He had no prior notice of this at all.

"That's nice. Will I like it?"

"I think you will. It's nothing big, but I kind of think it's nice."

"Well, what is it?"

Adam left without giving a response. Maybe getting whatever it was. He sat down on the couch and looked around; everything was exactly in the same order as when they had left. Good. Some surprises weren't at all welcome.

Adam came back. Had a folded piece of lined paper in his hand. Sat down next to him, handed it to him.

"For you."

It was a letter, evidently. He took it and opened it. For him.

-

_Dear Rick, my husband, best friend, and all around love of my life,_

_This past year has been a bit of a roller coaster, but we've gotten through it together, and as I look back I realize it's been amazing. How could it not be? We're married! Husbands for life. Isn't that nice? We survived our first year as husbands._

_I think it's strengthened our relationship, too. A year ago we were little nervous wrecks, not sure where we were going or what we were doing or what each of us really thought about being married. Would it turn out for the better? Would some horrible flaw turn up and destroy us? What would happen in the years to come? We still don't know, but at least we can assume that we'll be together for a long, long, long time, because this year has proved that. You've been a gift to me, an absolute TREASURE. Where would I be without you? I don't know, but it's definitely nowhere that could be happier than this, because that isn't possible. I'm SO SO HAPPY with you and I can't wait for many, many more anniversaries to come. I love you <3_

_Love and kisses, Adam_

_-_

He was grinning. A wide, wide grin. Turned to Adam and hugged him without even looking at him.

Adam hugged him back. Squeezed him tightly. "You like it?"

"I love it. I love you." Couldn't say anything more than that. He kissed his cheek. "Man, and I don't have anything in return."

Adam loosened his hug, but didn't let go. "You don't need to."

-

Quiet, quite quiet. Had he just never noticed that he didn't speak much before? Or had it really changed? He couldn't tell.

He asked Marissa, before, if he was losing his mind. Or his memory, specifically. Or both. She said he wasn't, but she reminded him of it in the worst way possible.

"What did the man on that ship say to you?"

At first he didn't see how that was relevant, and the sharp pain he felt shoot down his body at the thought of it was not at all wanted.

"The... guy who talked to me?"

He wasn't sure why he called him that. He did more than talk to him. A lot more.

"Yes."

"He said..."

And he couldn't remember. It hurt to remember, to extract memories from his brain that he wasn't even sure were real or fabricated by his imagination. He couldn't think. How could he answer her? Hadn't he told her this stuff before?

Then he remembered. The basics, anyway.

"He told me it was my fault..."

"Yeah."

"And he said... well, he implied, sort of..." He looked off at a corner of the room as he tried to remember. "Well, he was messing with me. With my brain. He said Adam was in their hospital getting treated, and then he said they weren't, and then he said he didn't know who Adam was, and then he said Adam was in the hospital again..."

Or had he? He couldn't even remember that.

"I think."

"That's okay. The details don't matter. What's important there is that he, like you said, was messing with your mind. He wanted you to be confused, and not sure if you could trust him or not."

"I didn't trust him from the start." He paused. "But I did wonder if I should or not."

"Exactly. He made you wonder, and question yourself."

"...Oh."

-

Night time. Darkened room, darkened blanket, covered his toes up to his shoulders, maybe more if he scrunched down, but he wasn't. Adam was sleeping, he wasn't, wasn't that the case every single night?

Adam was breathing so soundly. He wasn't breathing soundly at all. He barely breathed at a regular rate at any time. Always shallow. Probably not good for him.

He got up out of bed. Walked down the hallway, didn't feel like he was really walking. Wandering. Where was he going? He would find out.

Walked into the kitchen. Got himself a drink of water. He couldn't sleep, at all, and his throat was sore, and maybe it wasn't helping at all, ugh.

He wanted to melt into the floor and sink into the ground and die, forever, leaving nothing behind. Adam wouldn't like that at all. Maybe he could come with him. They could live together under the earth where there was nothing to worry about and no responsibilities, no jobs, no nothing.

More water. Thirsty. Set the glass down, felt queasy, made his way to the couch, felt even more queasy.

What would Adam say if he found him sleeping on the couch the next morning? The same stuff he had said to him the time before. Why? Why not come back to bed? Why not wake me up? I'll help you, every time. Do you trust me?

Yes, Adam, yes, but it's impossible for some reason, if it were physically easier to do that then maybe, maybe...

Sharp pain behind his eyes. Headache. A bad one. Adam?

He shut his eyes tightly. Lied down on the couch, fell down, really. Eyes still shut. Burning, all of a sudden.

Maybe he would stay here for the night. At least he had a good excuse. He felt dead.

The queasy feeling in his stomach intensified fourfold, and he let out a small groan of pain and clutched it. Keeled up. Ughhh.

He felt numb, too. Could barely move. Adam?

_Head hurt so bad ugh Adam where are you wake up and come make it better._

His eyes were still shut tight. Releasing the tension just doubled the pain, somehow. Was it the water? Would it help or hinder his situation?

He felt hot. Boiling hot; he was sweating like it was a 90 degree summer's day. He ripped off his shirt and leaned back against the couch, trying to absorb some of its coolness.

"Adam," he said, his voice high pitched and quiet. Adam, of course, did not hear.

Blood pounding in his head. Eyes closed. Stomach still feeling weird. And that goddamn headache. Where had it all come from? "Adam?"

Adam wasn't there. He was sleeping, like a normal person.

He curled up against the couch even more. Whimpered. "Adam..." So quiet.

Gradually, the feelings passed, until all that remained was his headache, although even that had subsided enough for him to at least open his eyes. He found his way, somehow, by memory more than cognizance, back to bed, and slowly crawled on top of the blanket. Curled up there too. Shut his eyes, wanted to burst in to tears. Head wouldn't stop hurting.

Adam was there, though. Sleeping, but a hell of a lot closer than he had been before.

He could barely move an inch now. Or did he just not want to? Didn't have the energy to. Could only lie there, his head exploding.

"Adam?"

Queasy feeling was back. It hadn't gone away, really, had lingered in the shadows, but was back.

How many times had he called Adam's name in the dead of night when he was sick and Adam was sleeping? How many times had he awakened him?

He was awake. Didn't seem to mind, which bugged him. He should hate him by now. "What, babe?" So quiet.

"I'm sick."

A pathetic simplification of it. Yes, he was sick. More than sick. Dying.

"What's up?" His way of asking what's wrong, he supposed.

"My head's gonna -" He stopped. Couldn't speak anymore. Had to leave.

"What?"

He got up, out of bed, quickly, ran to the bathroom, vomited. Disgusting. Stood there for a bit, breathing in and out, feeling gross in every way. Sweating awfully again. Inhale, exhale.

Came back. Didn't say anything to Adam.

"Where did this come from?" He knew.

"I don't know, I couldn't sleep and I got up and I felt sick." Another simplification. He didn't feel too fond of words at that point in time.

"How bad? Like, on a scale of one to ten."

He could have been a doctor. What was an appropriate number? "Eight." Ha ha, yeah, about right.

"...Really?"

"Yeah." Almost groaned that too. Didn't want to talk anymore. Got back in bed.

"Maybe you have the flu," Adam murmured. "What else hurts?"

"Head." So badly. Wouldn't stop. "Eyes. Stomach."

"I know that one."

"Everything."

"Aw." Didn't say anything more.

"You get some sleep and maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

He didn't say anything, but there was a sharp twinge in his head. Closed his eyes again. Wanted to die.

"I want to die."

"Not tonight." Mumbled.

"Yes tonight."

"Never."

He didn't say anything to that. So sweet. Didn't understand it at all.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor rick

"I don't know. I just can't tell what's real and what's fake anymore."

As the words left his lips he instantly regretted them. He sounded so ridiculous. _You can't tell what's real and what's fake? How do you even live?_ He didn't know.

Marissa didn't ask him that. She looked at him, and for some reason, gave him a smile. A faint one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Well, I can tell you what is real. This. Me, you. Adam, too."

"Yeah." It still didn't feel right, somehow.

"Everything you went through on the ship was real, too. Including what that man said wasn't real. What's also true is that he lied to you about many things."

"Yeah." That was another thing. "Even the part about it being my fault that Adam got... that?"

"That was the biggest lie of all."

"Oh." That was really what felt the most fake, but somehow, he could believe it. Believe that he had led Adam to be tortured, and doing so had led himself to where he was now. Vague.

"But... sometimes I get..."

-

Sometimes he had moments where it almost felt as if he were having a nightmare in the daytime. Or as if he were living in the nightmare, or living his nightmare past all over again. Or all three. Those were the moments he never liked to think about, because doing that caused the most pain of all.

They didn't happen nearly as often as his regular nightmares - they were pretty rare, in fact, which he was very much grateful for - but they still did. The first had occurred about a month after their marriage, when somehow, he couldn't even remember how, it had all come back to him at once. Everything. The ship, the lady and her guards, the torture... the guy who had talked to him. Like a vivid memory that he had no want or need for, that had just popped up in to his mind without warning. It had been morning, just after he woke up, and Adam hadn't been there. Gone to work. He hated that, especially then.

It had started with his heart racing starting up. When he woke up, it just took off. He could physically feel it accelerating, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Breathe, maybe, but he was horrid at that. He curled up in bed and wished it away, and that's when the memories came flooding back -

And it hurt. He could almost sense how it had been when he was there - the smell of the ship, a clean, sterile sort of smell usually associated with hospitals, that was there. He could remember that clearly. And the voices of the people who had dealt with them, he could remember those with more accuracy than he ever would have preferred.

He curled up even more, trying to make himself as tight and raveled as he could. Not enough. Still took up room. He wanted to disappear into nothing at all, but that was impossible. Scrunched up, and moaned. Let out a breath of agony.

"Because of you, Adam is in pain -"

He whimpered. _Go away._

"Because of you, he might even die -"

He reached up and pulled his hair. Hard. All it did was hurt him even more. God damn it.

"How would you feel if you were the cause of his death? You will be. Will it hurt you? Cause you pain for the rest of your life? I bet it will."

It was. It did. It caused him so much pain he might as well have died back then because it was causing him so much pain now _oh God -_

"You're useless. That's why you're here."

She had had such an annoying voice. Calm, authoritative, knew her place and position very well, too well. Wanted to hurt them, that was her only goal. Well, she had done that.

"All your fault, you horrible -"

Horrible, horrible, he was horrible, why didn't he die back then? Why hadn't he been tortured? She should have tortured him, and killed him, too, because that was what he deserved. Not Adam. Adam should never have even been touched by their filthy hands. Adam should have been left alone. Why was it Adam?

Adam was so beautiful, Adam was so lovely and wonderful and brought him so much joy, he would rather think about Adam than those monsters.

Breathed, or at least tried to. Opened his eyes. Closed them again, but didn't scrunch them up.

What was it about Adam that he loved so much? What had Adam said he loved about him? His personality, and the way he showed it. His words. He agreed with that, thought not about him. About Adam. He loved his personality, and the way he showed it.

His personality. He was happy, most of the time, and quiet when he wasn't, and never in the least bit irritating or obnoxious, no. Never angry at him, would never even think of being mad at him. Never yelled. Always had a soft voice, in fact, but not soft as in volume, soft as in you would trust him with anything, or you could listen to him talk to hours and feel enlightened, and almost lifted up, by the end of a conversation. Kind to others. Loved animals, man, he loved marine biology, that was what had been the real kicker that night that they had met. Loved music, too, so creative, and he always showed that to him. Always confided in him, always trusted him with his life and soul. Brave. Humble. Loving, so loving, he could barely believe how loving he was. Beautiful in every sense of the word. And how did he show it? His kindness. He was so kind. Being around him was like being immersed in a physical manifestation of all things nice.

They had gone. His monsters had gone. He was calm again.

-

"Adam, huh?"

He had told her about that. About how he had made him feel so much better, just by thinking of all the reasons that he loved him. She had a smile on her face.

"Yep."

"That's sweet. You love him so much, I can tell."

"I don't know where I would be without him." He seriously didn't. Had no clue. Didn't want to think about it. Without Adam? Who knows. He could even be dead.

-

He was sick the next morning, too. Threw up again, and the back of his throat hurt, burned, screamed out in pain. He drank a lot of water, threw that up too. His stomach ached as well. And the constant queasiness was starting to bug him.

Adam took the day off from work. He had protested against it, saying _no, I'll be fine on my own, you need to work, you don't have to sacrifice my job for me_ , and Adam had replied that _yes he did,_ and besides, he had already sacrificed the rest of his life to care for him and be by his side.

"In sickness and in health, remember?" Ha. Did he remember.

It was nice, thought. If this were a regular day, he would be alone at this point, probably doing nothing at all and regretting it. But here Adam was, making him drink water and understanding when he couldn't keep all of it down, sitting by him and talking to him, just generally being there. It was a great improvement.

"I'll call the doctor," he said. "We'll see what's up. It might just be the flu."

"Maybe you shouldn't be around me, then." His voice was scratchy, and it hurt to talk. He wanted Adam around him more than anything, besides not being sick anymore.

"Nope."

Sweet. His temperature was high, and Adam put a washcloth on his face. It felt cold and wet, and was a nice small relief.

He fell asleep a couple of times, and each time he woke up he felt like he had been hit by a train and then left out for hours in the hot, hot sun. Miserable. Adam made him drink more water, of course.

"I can get another day off, probably." He didn't want that. Wanted Adam to make himself useful.

"Why?"

"Oh, you know my job. It's nothing."

Queasy. He closed his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Is your headache gone?"

It had receded for the most part, but was still nagging him, pulsating quietly in the background, dominated by every other thing that was wrong with him at the moment. He gave Adam a weak thumbs up.

Adam frowned. He couldn't blame him.

Sick. Did he have an appointment with Marissa? He couldn't even remember what day of the week it was.

"Thursday."

Oh, yeah. He had talked to her two days ago. About stuff. Adam. Him. How he couldn't remember anything.

-

"What's your sleep schedule like?"

Ha. Worst question to possibly ask him.

"I get a lot of sleep." Boy, did he.

"How much do you think?"

"Um." He could barely even think right now. How many hours? Was he supposed to keep track? "About... ten, maybe?"

"A day?"

"Yeah. I get to sleep in a lot. Because Adam works."

"Ah. And are you used to that?"

"Well, my body is." He wished they could move on to a different topic, but then he remembered, in the back of his mind, that there wasn't a single topic that he actually liked to discuss with her. "I don't know if I really like it that much, but..."

But what? He didn't know. Why did he always trail off sentences like that? Stupid him.

"I guess I wish I could be more productive. But half the time I have nightmares and the other half I'm lazy. So, yeah."

He couldn't hate himself more. Marissa said nothing for a moment.

"You're on medication, right?"

Oh, no. He knew where this was going.

"Yeah."

"Do you take it every day?"

Ha ha ha oh God no he wanted to die.

"I'm... supposed to."

"Do you?"

Go away, Marissa. "No."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because..." There was no skating around this. "I forget. And I'm lazy, like, I think about taking it and I'll be sitting on the couch, probably, so I don't want to go up and get it. But mostly I forget."

He forgot everything.

-

"Mom?"

Called her again. Why not. She loved it, no, adored it, no, was beyond pleased when he gave her a call. He hated calling anyone at all, save for Adam, but oh well.

"Yes?"

"Oh, hi. It's Rick."

"I know."

Good old Mom. "I was just wondering. You remember mine and Adam's reception, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Yeah. How much of it did we..."

Oh, God, why did he bring this up with his mom? He could have called anyone else, heck, he could have even talked to Adam himself, but he chose his Mom. Oh well. Too late now.

"Did you what?"

"Well... at the end, you know, near the end, how much of that near the end did Adam and I, uh..."

Ugh.

-

What they had done near the end of their reception was spent almost the entirety of it making out. They had just grabbed a couple of chairs at a table near the back, and immediately after that grabbed each other.

It had been quick and slow at first. Quick in the sense that it had started reasonably small, with little pecks on the lips and cheeks and smiles to go with them; slow in the sense that after that, they had pressed their lips together and pressed themselves to each other as well. 

They had moved closer at that point, melting in to each other, or as close as they could get while sitting in plastic chairs with suits on. Kissed deeply. Passionately. Delicious.

They had broken apart several times, just to say things to each other. Things, incredibly stupid and cheesy things, flirting at its maximum. Stuff like "what would I do without you in my life, you beautiful gorgeous incredible man?" But worse.

They had ignored everyone around them; there was no one else in the world but the two of them. And even that was far too much. They had gotten bored of the reception, anyway. Too many people around them, not enough space between them.

Kissing. How had he become so addicted to it? It had never bothered him for the first twenty-five years of his life, so it shouldn't bother him now, but it did. So much. They were addicting, and he couldn't get enough of them. Maybe it was Adam. It was entirely Adam.

Not once during that make out session did they consider that maybe, perhaps, it was a bit too much, and that maybe, perhaps, they should stop. Not that it wasn't mentioned - it was. They said it to each other a few times, laughed about it, and continued kissing each other.

It was only long after they had gone home and eventually fallen asleep that he remembered that their parents had been there, and they had most likely seen them.

Regrets. They enveloped his life and scattered themselves throughout each day.

-

"I would say a lot."

He groaned softly. That was the answer that he had both expected and dreaded.

"Really?"

"Well, yes. It was definitely a while, because the reception lasted quite a bit. But it wasn't like you spent the entire time doing that. Most of the time you were up."

She was trying to be polite to him, he knew. He wished she wouldn't.

"Did you hate it?"

"No, dear. You were in love, weren't you? Newlyweds? Of course you won't be able to stop kissing each other. Don't worry about it."

Easier said than done. "All right."

"Is that the only reason you called?"

"Pretty much."

"Are you worrying about silly things again?"

"Yeah." He never stopped.

"Well, don't. There's no use wasting time and energy over it. You have a very nice life."

"I do." That was true. He just wished he could fully enjoy it. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome."

Sigh.

-

"Do you think you're getting better?"

He shrugged. Was he ever getting better? No.

"Well, I don't know what to do."

"I don't either."

Adam sighed and sat down next to him. Looked at him again.

"We're a couple of nut cases, aren't we?"

"Yep."

"Always have some crazy stuff attack us out of the blue." He shook his head. "Good thing we're used to it. We can deal with it."

"We can still complain about it, though, right?" He took a sip of water. It didn't seem to be helping much, but then again, he could never tell.

"Oh, absolutely. I would complain too if I were in your place."

"You might be. You seem to be hanging around me quite a lot."

"That's 'cause I'm taking care of you."

"Are you washing your hands on a regular basis?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Shut up, you're supposed to be resting."

He was. He did.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you. Have you been taking your medication lately?"

He froze. That question again.

"No." Couldn't lie to Adam.

"Why not?"

"I'm lazy." Couldn't sugarcoat it, either.

"You probably should. It helps."

"Yeah, it does." He did. That was yet another reason why he hated himself. He had help right there, and yet he refused it, and the consequences that he knew were coming were awful.

-

May was pretty. A good month. Pretty. Smelled nice. Lots of flowers.

He got up to go vomit again. He was sick of that, too. It burned so much.

"I think I'm gonna start losing my insides," he said weakly to Adam afterwards. "I'm running out of stuff in my stomach."

"You should eat more." Right. He had barely eaten anything in the last two days.

"Yeah." He collapsed back on the couch. It was warm from all the body heat he had been giving off.

"Do you think I'm dying?"

Adam rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious."

"No."

"I could be, though."

"You're not dying. You're just sick."

"I could be."

"Sick as a dog."

"I'm not a dog."

"I very well know that." He left.

Scrunched his face against the side of the coach. That burnt, too. Everything burnt.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

"This is it," he said quietly. "The biggest moment of our lives. Right here, right now."

Day of their wedding. Minutes before, those last precious minutes. They were outside, the only ones remaining, and everyone else had gone inside to wait for them - them - and they were there. Just before, as he put it, the biggest moment of their lives.

"This is it," said Adam, just as quietly.

"Ten minutes. We've got ten minutes."

"Hm."

He stepped over, even closer to him than he had been, and they leaned their foreheads together. Natural. "Adam."

"Rick."

"We're getting married."

"I know."

"We're getting married. To each other."

"Yep. We're gonna be husbands."

At that moment, it felt more real than it ever had been. His eyes widened. "Husbands. You're going to be my husband."

Couldn't stop saying it. The more he rubbed it in, the better it felt.

"I am. And you're going to be mine."

"I..." He leaned in, even more, to break the distance completely, and kissed him, but it wasn't a hard kiss at all; rather, it was both soft and passionate, and somehow accurately conveyed everything that he was currently feeling. Adam kissed him back just as passionately, and they broke off and leaned against each other. Collecting themselves, or as much as they could.

"Maybe we should save the kissing for when we're actually married," said Adam quietly.

"I could never stop kissing you," he said. His thoughts were just flowing from him now, but it didn't matter. Adam wanted to hear them.

"Why?"

"Because you're the most kissable creature on Earth, and every other planet in the universe too."

"Oh. I thought that was you."

"Nope. And really, you can't blame me; how could I ever stop kissing someone as incredibly beautiful as you? It's impossible."

He had never been this poetic.

"You know what I think?" said Adam.

"What?"

"I think that not only are

you incredibly beautiful, too, but also that you'll probably be even more beautiful when we're married. And when we grow older, every day, you'll continue to get even more beautiful, and I'll be astounded every time. Absolutely astounded."

"By me?"

"By you."

"You don't have to wait long for that, I think." He looked around at the doors in front of them, still shut tight, awaiting their arrival. "How much longer do you think it'll be?"

"About five minutes, probably."

He looked at him - gazed, really, in wonder. On the brink of bursting into tears. His emotions were going crazy. "Five minutes until we're married."

"It's getting closer, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I..." He blinked. "I feel like my entire life has been leading up to this, and it's only five minutes away. I don't know how to feel, I don't know what to think..." Swallowed. "Actually, scratch that. I know what to think. I'm thinking about how beautiful you are, and how beautiful you're going to be for the rest of our lives, and how I'm going to spend every waking second with you, my... husband, my almost husband that's going to be my actual husband in less than five minutes. I can't wait for that. I can't wait to be with you for the rest of my life, and to be married to you at that - it's unbelievable. You are unbelievable, Adam. You are the one thing in my life that makes me completely happy. I love you."

-

"You are really the most awful person ever, you know that? You are awful. And I can't live with you anymore, I'm sorry. It's driving me insane."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have come here in the first place. Because obviously you never loved me."

"I did love you. Not anymore, though, that's for sure." Laughed bitterly.

"Then leave, if I really drive you so freaking insane. Just freaking leave."

"You know, I might. I just might. Watch me."

"I hope you do."

That had been half an hour ago. Adam had driven away in his car since then, and he sincerely doubted he would return.

He really was an awful person, and he knew it. He had tried so hard to make Adam happy, but something had gone wrong along the way, and Adam sure as heck wasn't happy anymore. It was sad, really. But that was the way it was, and that was the way it was going to be for probably a long, long time.

He sighed. He had given up. He had lost what he had once had with Adam - shattered it, really, and left it crumbled to pieces to be ignored forever. It was gone, and Adam was gone, and he was gone too.

Gone. The one person he had loved, and had thought would happily spend the rest of his life with - no more of that. He didn't even have to question if Adam loved him anymore. He didn't, and that was fact.

He didn't blame him, really. He wasn't lovable at this point. And obviously they weren't meant to be together.

They had had a weird love anyway. No one should fall in love that fast, and that deeply - it was impossible to fall in love that way, to

really fall in love. He had thought they had been in love, but clearly he was wrong.

And now he was gone. His husband... well, he guessed ex-husband now. He doubted they would continue to be married, at this rate. And they had worked so hard to get married in the first place... treasured the fact that they would be together forever... put work and work in to building a life with each other...

All for naught, he guessed.

Oh, well. What should he do now? What was there to do? Nothing. There was nothing in the world that stood out to him anymore. Disgusting.

Why had he ever thought they could be together? He should have never approached him from the start. All it had caused him was pain, and that had caused Adam pain as well. Because of him.

That had been the breaking point, really. His nightmares. At first Adam had been able to deal with them, to comfort him, and it had worked, but after they started occurring on a regular basis, Adam had lost patience. He couldn't blame him.

"If you're not going to get a grip, then I won't be able to be around you anymore."

It was his medication, really, or lack of it. He hadn't been taking it, and thus had been doing nothing to alleviate his... disorder. Nothing. Adam had been patient with him at first, but then he wasn't, and that hurt too, but what was he supposed to do? It was his fault. All his fault. Just like the man on the ship had said, or perhaps predicted. He was entirely to blame.

"I could understand maybe if you wanted to put a bit of effort in to helping yourself, but you're not. You're not doing a single thing. I can't do it all for you, and it's exhausting at this point."

He didn't know if Adam knew his words were hurting him more than everything. He probably did. Should have been able to deal with that, too, but couldn't. Too much of a wimp.

"Are you really going to spend your entire life like this? Are you gonna be having nightmares when you're fifty, too?"

He never knew what to say.

"Because I can't deal with that. I can't, and I'm sorry, I've tried, but I can't."

He understood.

Did he love him? No. He had once, he had said. He believed that. Sure, he had once. But not anymore. They had rushed, and they knew it, and these were the consequences.

Adam had left. Adam was gone. What was he going to do? Nothing. Die, probably. He should.

He was nothing. Absolutely nothing, and he deserved less.

-

He woke up. The stress was too much, he supposed. Crying. He woke up crying far too often.

_No, don't show Adam, don't let him see it it's gonna come true don't even make a noise -_

He felt arms wrapped around him. Slowly, in a comforting way. Rubbed his back. He didn't realize he had been facing him.

"Are you awake?" Barely even intelligible. His throat hurt so much. He felt as if he had been in a fight and drastically lost.

"Yeah." Quiet.

He took a deep breath, and didn't say anything more, because there was nothing to say. Adam didn't move.

"What happened?" He didn't sound annoyed. He probably was, though.

"One I've had before." They didn't usually repeat, but occasionally they did, and he hated them more than any of the others. Living it once was painful; living it twice was hell. "I don't know if you remember them."

"Some of them." Probably all of them. He still had the efficient memory that he had once had, but lost.

"Do you love me?" Stupid question. Didn't know why he still asked it, over and over, needed affirmation of something that was obvious.

"Of course I do." Rubbed his back again. He loved that, and Adam knew he loved that.

"You don't get annoyed with me when I wake you up like every night?"

"It's not every night." Continued. "You didn't wake me up last night, and the night before that, and I don't think the night before that one either."

"Still, though. You don't get annoyed with me for waking you up at all?"

Paused - that pause hurt. Was he considering something? Probably. How to tell him he really was annoyed, probably. Well, it would hurt, but he would get over it.

"Remember our wedding vows?"

Oh. He had brought those up before, as a comfort mechanism.

"Yeah."

"And not _our_ wedding vows. Our additions. I mean the actual parts of it, the ones we didn't make up. What do they say?"

"I don't know." He was shaking, inwardly and outwardly. Still felt like he had been run over with a truck.

"I, Adam, take you, Rick, to be my lawfully wedded husband."

"Uh huh."

"It gets better. To have and to hold from this day forward. That day being our wedding, which was now over a year ago. Has that stuff changed at all?"

"No."

"For better or for worse. For better would be times like last week. For worse would be times like right now. Am I here for both of them?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. For richer and for poorer. That doesn't necessarily mean money. For richer - we feel rich personally. For poorer - you feel like you're gonna die. I'm here for both of them, too."

He nodded, or at least tried to. Moved his head a fraction of an inch.

"In sickness or in health. That's obvious, I've said that to you before. I don't care how sick you are, how much in pain you are, if you're throwing up your insides while having a panic attack, I don't care, I'm here for you. That's what I'm supposed to do, and that's what I want to do."

"You want to?" He couldn't see why. If he were Adam he would leave himself to wither away, probably.

"Of course I do. I like seeing you feeling good. It makes me happy."

"I never feel good."

"Yes you do, don't say that. Okay, what else is there? To love and to cherish. I never stop that."

He smiled weakly.

"From this day forward - our wedding, which was over a year ago - until death do us part. Are you really, truly, literally dead, as in you're not breathing and your heart rate is zero?"

"No."

"Then we haven't parted yet. Meaning, I am never gonna leave you for being sick."

He hadn't even said that. He just knew. He always did.

He wasn't sure if that was reciprocated. Would he help out Adam if he were sick? He would like to think he would, but he never knew. Adam was always clandestine about these sort of things. Never told him. He was obvious about his sicknesses, far too obvious.

He would stay with him forever, though. Not just because he couldn't afford not to, but also because he wanted to. Genuinely.

He moved in closer to Adam, and rested his head on his shoulder, as he had done countless times before. Adam said nothing. He could probably feel his heart racing.

"I'm so tired," he said.

"Come here." Even closer. He adjusted himself so that he was practically lying on top of him. Rested his head on his other shoulder, his lips barely a centimeter away from his neck. His lovely neck.

"Which nightmare was it, now?"

He probably did remember. "You and I hated each other and you left me forever and I was just there feeling awful." The words hurt almost as much as the nightmare itself.

"Oh, that one? Ugh. I'm sorry you had to go through that again, that sucks."

At that moment, he loved him more than he ever had. He didn't know what it was. Maybe the compassion. Probably the compassion. Maybe the sheer amount of love Adam showed him. Whatever. It didn't matter. He kissed him, hard, on the lips, and Adam was probably surprised by it but that didn't matter either, because he kissed back.

Broke off. Resumed his head's position on his shoulder.

"Will you marry me?" he mumbled. It wasn't the first time he had said it. Nor the second. Third, maybe.

"Forever and ever."

"Is that a yes?"

"Do I have to say it explicitly?"

"No."

"Can I ask you again?"

"Sure."

"Will you marry me, Adam?"

"Yes, absolutely."

There wasn't a perfect response to that question. Whatever he said would work. Even if it was a useless question to begin with.

"I love you." So much, so much... Couldn't say it. Still.

"I love you too." He sighed. "I wish you could feel better. Every night. Make everything go away, somehow."

"Me too." He was getting tired of it. But then again, without the nightmares, would they have nights like these? Maybe. Maybe not.

"I wish we had never been taken to that stupid ship."

That was also true. Maybe.

"Do you think we're more connected because of it?"

Connected seemed too weak, but he couldn't think of another word. It worked.

"Because of what we went through?"

"Yeah."

"Hm. Maybe we are."

"Would we still be as... close as we are now, if it hadn't happened?"

"I couldn't say. I think we would be, but... maybe it has changed us in a good way. Huh. That's interesting that you would think about that."

"Just trying to find some silver lining." Funny, because he was such a pessimist.

"That's good. Keep doing that."

"I will."

One last question, or reaffirmation.

"So, you definitely don't find me annoying because I keep waking you up like this?"

"Not in the least."

Good. That was good.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be studying for my final tomorrow but it hurts my brain so I did this instead. Calculus can die.

He did take his medication. For once. Got inspired by Adam, maybe, somehow. Got up the next morning and took it, and it was done, and he wondered why he didn't do it every day, because it was as easy as that.

Adam was at work, again. He would come back later. It would be good. Life wasn't as drastically horrible as he sometimes thought it was.

-

The ship was gone. It was all gone - all that stuff that affected him every day existed only in the past. He wasn't on the ship anymore, and neither was Adam. They were at home - their home - and the comfort level in comparison to on the ship was an incredible difference. Didn't mean much, but it helped to know that no matter what may have happened or not happened on the ship, that was how things were now.

He told himself that, because Marissa had told him to tell himself that. Suggested it to ground himself. Tell himself what's going on, really going on, and gradually let go of the past, because that was what it was, the past. Passed.

It worked a little bit. Talking to Adam helped more.

He texted him a lot, because they were married and he was pretty much his only friend. Wanted to know what was going on in his mind, wanted to escape his own. Sometimes Adam didn't text back for a while, but that was fine because he had an excuse. Work. He wished he would quit, sometimes, and stay at home all the time, but then they wouldn't have money and life would be even worse.

He did text back. _"I'm fine."_

He had asked how he was doing.

_"That's good :)"_

He put more effort in to texting in a cheerful manner than he did applying that to his regular life. Oh well. Adam didn't seem to care either way.

_"Yep. How are you feeling?"_

Sweet of him. Not _how are you,_ the most boring and clichéd question in the universe. How are you feeling, presently, any change from earlier when you weren't feeling so tight. How did he do that?

_"Better."_

He was, for the most part. Better than he had been before, certainly. Before he had been feeling like a one or maybe a one-and-a-half on the ten point scale of comfort and internal security. Maybe a point three on the scale of physical health, seeing as he was throwing up his insides and that headache had been splitting his brain. That had gone, hopefully never to come back, ever.

_"That's good. I went to see my doctor earlier."_

...Had he?

 _"When did that happen?"_ he typed, quicker than he had with the previous messages. His heart had lurched, but then again, it did that every time something unexpected that he hadn't previously known a thing about happened in his life. He ignored it for the most part, but it still hurt. Adam, write back.

He did. _"Yesterday morning."_

When had that happened? Had he bothered to tell him? Had he mentioned that at all to him? He tried to remember. Yesterday. What happened yesterday?

Yesterday. He had awakened, and Adam hadn't been there, but he hadn't expected him to be there, because he oh so rarely was in the early morning hours nowadays. He had spent some hours alone, and then Adam had come home, and what had they said? What had they told each other? Nothing of substance, and he was positive there was no mention at all of a doctor's visit.

His heart rate had increased. He just noticed it. It made him feel even more sick.

 _"Why didn't -"_ He had to stop. His hands were shaking. He reached out his arms to nowhere and straightened them, and that did nothing at all to stop it. He grabbed his phone again. _"Why didn't you tell me?"_ Send.

Stupid, stupid, he was an idiot. Time ticked, passed by, went away, was noticed and dreaded, and not at all mourned. Adam didn't say anything back.

He did, finally, thirteen minutes later. _"I didn't?"_

That was it. Ha ha ha. Waited minutes and minutes for two words.

 _"No."_ Adam had to wait ten seconds for one.

 _"I guess I forgot to tell you. Sorry."_   Forgot. Funny. He told him everything, and Adam told him almost nothing. He was tempted to write that, but he didn't.

What should he say back? _It makes me feel weird when you don't tell me stuff? I love you, but I wish you wouldn't forget things like that? I'm sick and this isn't helping?_ No.

 _"I wish you told me."_ Truth. Still felt dumb typing it. He shouldn't care this much, it was probably nothing, but still...

 _"I'm sorry."_ He wished he were talking to him face-to-face. But would that really make things easier? He didn't know. He wished this whole situation weren't happening, really.

 _I'm sorry._ Was he sorry? He couldn't tell through a simple text message. Light green speech bubble. Gave no indication of real life emotion.

Should he write back that it's okay? Was it okay? It wasn't okay. He didn't feel okay. But maybe the situation was okay. Ha. He wanted to die.

 _"It's -"_ Stopped again. Backspace.

_"I'm sorry. I don't like when you don't tell me stuff -"_

Backspaced, then wrote it again. Send? Maybe. Send?

Send?

He put his phone down. What was he thinking? "I'm ridiculous," he said out loud.

Picked up his phone again.

 _"I'm sorry. I don't like when you don't tell me stuff."_ Stared at him. Not sent yet. Glowing. Maybe it was. Would Adam hate it? Hate him?

Send... send... Sent. A reply came a minute later.

_"You don't have to know everything, you know."_

He swallowed. His mind had gone blank again. What to think of this.

The problem was, he _did_ have to know everything. That was his way, really. It was agonizing not knowing something, especially if it had been bothering him, and especially if it seemed important. That was one of the main sources of his panic - not knowing. Being unaware and unsure. Adam knew that, right? Right? So why was he saying that? Was it a joke? Not a very funny one. Did he actually mean it? He knew him. Wasn't he supposed to be supporting him? After all that talk about marriage vows?

 _You don't have to know everything, you know._ Ironic, because he did know that, at least. Just couldn't accept it, or apply it to himself. Sure, in a perfect, panic-free world, he didn't have to know everything. He could live with that. But that wasn't here and now. That couldn't work. Adam knew that.

His phone had fallen to the floor. He picked it up. The message was still there.

What was it about it that seemed off? Adam. Adam -

He closed his eyes. Too much. Opened them. Typed.

_"I do need to know though because -"_

He needed to know. That was the real reason, but he needed a much more viable one.

_"I do need to know though because what if something's wrong with you and I don't know about it and you're not telling me."_

That hurt to type. His heart was still beating quickly, and didn't show signs of slowing. Hands were still shaking. That was all he was aware of, but was he really aware of it? More focused on Adam. As always.

Sent it. Oh well.

Reply...

_"Nothing's wrong. I'm just saying you don't need to know every little thing that's going on all the time. It just wastes energy."_

That still didn't feel right.

_"But you didn't tell me about going to see Marissa either. You're hiding stuff."_

God, what was he supposed to do? Now he didn't wish he were talking to Adam face-to-face. It would probably hurt ten times worse. But could he say these things talking to him directly? Could he be this frank? Maybe not.

_"There's a difference between hiding stuff and not telling you anything. I do tell you things, I tell you a lot, but you just completely forget about it."_

He threw his phone when he finished reading that. Threw it. Tossed it to somewhere near the floor. Maybe the surface smashed. He didn't freaking care. Fell on the couch and oh freaking God -

There were tears and he couldn't breathe properly and he was going crazy and why did Adam, Adam, Adam have to say that he couldn't barely even breathe breathe in the right way the kind they say is good nothing is good god freaking damn it

Maybe he didn't mean it oh yes he did he hated him he knew it all along god damn it he was right they were right his nightmares were right everything was coming true and Adam freaking Adam said no not true but he was the cause of them coming true God damn it holy crap

He was starting to hyperventilate, like some complete _moron_. He closed his eyes, but had to keep wiping them on his shirt sleeve. Some alarm had gone off in his head and it couldn't be shut off, ever, because the only person who could really shut it off had started it.

-

When Adam came home he hadn't moved at all. His phone hadn't either. They were both just lying where they had been left, beaten.

He had stopped crying and existed only in a state of blank nothing. Nothing at all. He must have stared at the wall for about forty minutes. Almost forgot about Adam, almost, but he existed perpetually at the forefront of his thoughts, blocking everything else. His message burned in his eyes.

When Adam came home he didn't even acknowledge him. Had his eyes closed, almost on the way to sleep.

"Rick?" Ha. What did he freaking care. If he loved him he wouldn't say stuff like that.

Sat down next to him. He shut his eyes even harder. Didn't touch him.

"Are you okay?" Obviously he wasn't.

"Are you gonna answer me?" Wasn't worried about him being dead or anything, because he was still breathing hard. Couldn't stop that, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" At one point before in time, in some other moment in all the myriad moments of panic, he had wanted that, but not now. What did he want now? He didn't exactly know. Death, probably.

He didn't call an ambulance. He just sat next to him. Why didn't he go away? Obviously he didn't care about him to stay with him and attempt to comfort him.

"I'm sorry." That was what he had said before, what had started the whole fiasco. He didn't know if he accepted the apology or not.

Just shut his eyes even more. He didn't know if he even had the energy to offer a response.

Adam patted his head, lightly. Just a gentle touch of his finger tips. "I don't know. What was it?"

What was it? Didn't he know?

He couldn't talk. Couldn't go to sleep either. Just existed. Couldn't talk. Why couldn't he talk.

Still, but not still.

Adam didn't leave, still. Took his hand away, but didn't leave. He didn't know if he wanted him to leave or not. He wanted to leave himself.

Finally, attempted to speak. It worked.

"Text."

One word, one syllable, but something.

"Text? One of mine?"

He resented these questions. They were just an attempt to get him to talk more. And they worked.

"Yeah." Even less of a syllable, if that were possible.

"Which one?"

Which one. Ha. He knew. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to explain.

"Last one."

"The one asking why you weren't responding?"

Maybe he should have picked his phone back up after all. Nah.

"No."

"Where is your phone?"

He gave a half-hearted attempt at a shrug. Adam shifted, probably looking around the room, and got up, leaving a cold feeling on the couch. He sat back down a few moments later, but it wasn't the exact same position as before, and somehow that felt weird.

"Here, why don't you find it." Handed his phone to him. He sat up just an inch, opened his eyes, looked through the bleariness at the screen. Found the texts. It hurt just to look at them.

Found it. That one. Barely glanced at it, but felt his stomach lurch. "Top," he murmured, handing the phone back to him.

Adam took it. "That one?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think we should talk about that. I think you're a bit inquisitive, and that's not completely bad all the time, but sometimes I think it hurts you, and it hurts your anxiety level. 'Cause you're not getting all the information, and that affects your comfort. Maybe you should talk to Marissa about it."

That was all true, but not at all why the text had affected him. Maybe Adam really didn't know. He couldn't fathom that, but somehow it had to be the case.

"No."

"No what?"

"Not."

"Not why you're like this?"

"Mm mm."

"Well -" He raised the phone again, looked at the text. "...Oh."

"Mm." Closed his eyes. There it was.

"Oh, Rick -" And then he said it. "God damn it."

His eyes shot open. Looked at him. He didn't. He hadn't.

_"Adam?"_

"I'm sorry, oh gosh. Why did I say that to you? I wasn't thinking."

"Adam?"

"I know... ugh, why did I say that? Never mind. I can go to my phone and delete that if you like."

He didn't know what to think. Just stared at him.

"Are you okay? No, obviously you're not okay. God, I am such an idiot. I'm really sorry, babe, I don't know what I was - here." He got up. Left the room.

He didn't know what to think.

-

He had deleted it. From his phone and his own phone. It did make it better, somehow.

Adam made him soup for dinner. Nothing extravagant, just warming up a can of it and giving it to him, but it was more energy than he had. And it was nice. Tasty and warm. What he needed.

They didn't really talk to each other. Sat across from each other and stayed quiet. They went back to the couch and did the same thing. Quiet.

He asked him the question that had been on his mind the whole day. "What did you go to your doctor for?" Maybe a checkup. Maybe not.

Adam remained quiet at first, as if he were debating something. "Do you really want to know?"

Oh, God. Why did he ask? No wonder he had been hiding it from him, it was something serious, and he had been hiding it from him to keep him somewhat happy, because knowing it would kill him, and what could it be? Oh, God. Did he really want to know?

"It... it's not..." His voice cracked.

Adam looked at him with a weird expression on his face. Of befuddlement. "What?"

"How bad is it? It's not cancer, is it?"

He didn't know what he would do if that were the case. Was it the case? Oh no.

Adam raised his eyebrows in an alarmed way. "What? No, no way. I'm... maybe I shouldn't have phrased it like that. No, gosh -"

His face felt hot again. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, that's my fault. No. I am in no way dying, or close to it."

"Okay." Somehow it felt better to ask, though. Got that scare out of the way. A scare still existed, though.

"All right." Adam looked at him, and he looked back.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which rick is puzzled

Adam cleared his throat. Probably about to reveal something he didn't want to know, but had to know. Why did he get himself into these things?

"So, I think you've been noticing that I've been kind of... tired lately."

This wasn't going in any sort of positive direction. He nodded, though.

It was probably nothing. Adam was perfect, he never had anything bad happen to him.

"So I went to see my doctor because of that, 'cause it's been affecting me for quite some time now."

"How long?" Why hadn't he noticed? Stupid. He only cared about himself. Maybe not that long. Adam never had any sort of chronic pain, in any sense.

"A couple months, at least."

Oh. He definitely hadn't noticed that. A couple months? What month would that be? February or March. That long ago? Oh.

What had happened in those months? Nothing that he could really remember. He had had several nightmares, and Adam had comforted him, and Adam had gone to work, and it had been exactly the same as it was now. Had Adam changed? He couldn't remember.

"So, yeah. He ran a few tests on me, you know, like doctors do every time you see them. The usual ones. And he asked me some questions."

Adam had a male doctor, he had forgotten. He hadn't gone to see his doctor in so long. She was female, obviously. Maybe she missed him. Doubtful.

"Like what?"

"Well, about that. How long have you been feeling tired. I couldn't remember at first, it took a lot of thinking. It's been a while."

He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't noticed, of course. Stupid, oblivious him.

"But I said a couple months, which I think seems pretty accurate, and that lead to more questions. 'Cause a couple of months is a pretty long time to be tired. Well, you know."

He did, or at least he could empathize. How long had he had the panicky problems, and all the nightmares, and shaking hands and his stupid heart racing when it shouldn't be so fast and the whole nine yards? It had been more than a couple of months, but he knew what feeling awful for a long while was like. Horrible.

A couple of months was a pretty long time to be tired, though, especially continually, and especially if it wasn't normal or if it was out of place. Which it seemed to be. Not what seemed the norm.

"And so we talked... a bit... I think he's gonna make me get my blood drawn at some point to test stuff. Like Vitamin D or whatever."

"Oh."

"Which isn't that bad, I guess, if it shows something important. But I mentioned some other stuff. Like my general mood. What would you say it's been like lately?"

A quiz. He wasn't sure. He had seemed as happy as usual, but what did he know? He had barely noticed him being tired.

He told him that, and Adam nodded.

"It's all right. He said I'm not textbook."

"Textbook?"

"Yeah." Took a breath. "Yeah... Rick... um, he said there's a good chance I have major depression."

He blinked. Looked at him. Adam?

"What do you think?" Seemed almost nervous.

Think about what? Did it seem likely? Fitting? Not a chance of it, must be something else?

He blinked again.

Adam? Depression? Not Adam. He was perfect. Perfect Adam? Smiled a lot. He maybe smiled too much to be, well, depressed. Happy, he was happier than he was by a long shot. Nothing on the ship had affected him, no, it had all gone to him and Adam was left without a scratch on the inside, even though he had scratches on the outside. No, he was always comforting and comforted, always serene, always perfect. Depressed?

Didn't fit. Maybe it did.

"I... don't know." What had he asked him? What did he think? He didn't think anything. He had stopped thinking coherently a long time ago.

"Is it okay?" What a ridiculous question. Was it okay. With him? Did he need his approval now? For everything? For that? It didn't matter what he thought, it was Adam.

Adam?

"I..." Stop asking him. Why hadn't he told him? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now. I only just found out yesterday."

"No. Before. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling bad?" Depression had a lot of symptoms, he knew that. And they weren't just constant tiredness. Sadness, that was one of them, probably the main one. Adam? Sad? No.

"I don't know. I didn't know what was going on with me. I thought you were just supposed to feel terrible all the time, like that's a normal part of life."

Terrible? All the time? He never once looked as if he were feeling terrible. He always smiled at him, and kissed him, and asked him how his day was as if he really cared, and never really frowned or cried or anything. Had he ever even see him cry? Once? Even on the ship?

Now he couldn't remember, and that made the situations, the one on the ship and the one right now, hurt even more.

"No." Wasn't even sure to what that was a response. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

"What?"

What had he asked? Said? Anything? What was he thinking. Adam felt terrible all the time? Why hadn't he said anything about it to him, ever,  once in the year and a half, almost two years, that they had been together? Once? Gave any sort of sign about it? Adam? Depressed? No.

"I don't know. I'm so confused."

"By what?"

"By... you. Why are you depressed?"

Adam gave him a sympathetic sort of look. Like he pitied him. Pitied his stupidity and ignorance, probably. "Same reason as you."

He wasn't depressed... oh. It clicked.

"Ship?"

"Yeah."

The ship. What had happened on it had affected Adam, too. He hadn't gotten out of it unscathed after all.

Why hadn't he told him that? Surely that would have served as extra comfort after his nightmares. He wasn't alone. He had felt like it, before, many times, because it never felt good to live with someone who had gone through the same episode of suffering as you but never showed physical signs that it had really happened. And boy, had he questioned that. Adam had been affected as well. Hm.

"I'm sorry." Didn't know why he felt the need to apologize. It felt like his fault. Again.

"Don't blame yourself." Oh.

"I'm sorry it affects you too."

"Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry too."

They were quiet. Not sure of what to say.

"Why didn't you tell me when you were feeling bad?" Maybe he would answer this time.

"I didn't want to worry you, honestly." Oh. "You have enough stuff to worry about, and me feeling weird is just another thing. And I feel like it would be at the top of your priorities."

It would be. And it was.

"And I guess I was trying to ignore it. Like, if I didn't tell you, maybe it would go away."

"But it didn't."

"No."

Quiet again. 

"How bad is it?" He didn't want to ask that question, and he almost felt sick as the words left his lips, but it needed to be asked.

"My depression?"

Ouch. "Yeah."

"Could be worse."

"What?"

"I mean I don't want to die, or anything, but it's still enough of a problem for me to see my doctor about it."

"Oh." He needed to leave. He turned to Adam and hugged him. Tight.

Adam hugged him back, after a second. Even tighter. Rested his head against his shoulder. Didn't let go.

"We're messed up," he said under his breath.

"We sure are."

"Both of us. Not just me anymore."

Adam laughed quietly. "It was never just you."

"It wasn't?"

"Not for a second."

-

"Don't I make you happy?"

Maybe that wasn't the best way to phrase it, but that was how he felt. Had to say it. Had to ask. Had to make sure.

Later. He and Adam were sitting back on the couch again. Not doing much. Keeping quiet, until he said that.

"What?" Adam was surprised. Narrowed his eyes confusedly.

"I'm sorry." He was. Wished he hadn't said that. Or anything, ever, in his life.

"Rick, you..." Lost for words. Stared at him. "Is that what you think?"

He didn't like that question. Was he mad at him? Still confused? Both? Did he still love him, even? Ugh.

"Just wondering. Sorry."

"You're..." Didn't finish his sentence, or perhaps couldn't. Just looked at him like he had just killed someone in front of him.

"I'm sorry." He didn't look at him. Couldn't. Could only apologize.

-

"You're the only thing that's keeping me happy."

Later. Much later. That night. Came out of nowhere; he just said it to him. Confused him for a second.

"What?"

"You said -" Stopped. "Asked. If you make me happy. You do, more than anyone else on this planet."

"Oh." He had forgotten about that.

"I thought you should know."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Mumbled. Turned over. Was that the reaction he wanted? He didn't know what reaction he had. That whole day was just a huge mess.

-

The next day seemed just the same as the previous one, only Adam had depression, so it was different. He leaned over when he woke up and gave him a kiss, on the cheek, and it felt different because he had depression. And he went throughout his day, and Adam went throughout his, and both were affected because he had depression.

He tried to remember what it was like when he had started feeling panicky all the time and having nightmares. Had that changed anything? Had Adam gone through his day wondering about him, thinking about how things had suddenly changed, and wondering if it would harm anything? Harm their relationship? He would never know. He could ask, but it didn't feel right to.

Did Marissa know? Had Adam told her? He didn't know until he had gone to see his doctor, so no. Maybe she had already known. Probably. She tended to know a lot of things about him that he hadn't even considered, and it was most likely the same for Adam.

Maybe that was why he had gone to see her lately, too. Probably. It all made sense now, in a sad sort of way.

He was distant with him that day, even though he didn't mean to. Kept to himself. Didn't say much, and thus Adam didn't either. There wasn't much to say, really.

Was he angry with him? He wasn't even sure about that. He didn't blame him, of course, he could never do that; he didn't in any way think it was his fault, or even his own fault. That had only been a passing thought, because it was his automatic response to any wrong doing in his life, but he had said it was the ship... and he knew that feeling very well.

It wasn't, was it? No. Maybe. No. The man was wrong. Wasn't his fault. Adam loved him.

Did he love him back? Of course. Undying love, and Adam knew it. Did he show it? Did he?

He wished he could ask him. He could in the technical sense - there was nothing stopping him from doing so, and Adam would reply to him - but it was awkward, and how would he phrase it? _Do I show you enough love and appreciation?_

Did he? Couldn't ask anyone about that. Bottled it up, just like every other little nuance.

Did he? Did he tell him? He said he loved him every day. Never went a day without telling him it at least once, probably even at least twice or three times. But did he show it?

His hands were shaking again. His whole body was shaking. Needed to sit down. He was thinking too much about this.

Curled up on the couch. Why was it like this now? Why was Adam, perfect Adam, depressed? Why had everything suddenly gotten so much worse?

Adam. What was he doing? Where was he? He hadn't seen him in a while. He shut his eyes. Needed to block everything out.

-

Fell asleep. Woke up in the darkness, everything pitch black. There was no way to tell what time it was. Late, though, very late, judging by how very dark it was. Why had Adam let him fall asleep there?

His neck and back hurt. Uncomfortable couch. He had fallen asleep on it with Adam before and they had had about the same experience. They didn't do that often.

He got up, stretched a bit, wandered back to bed. Still tired, but not sure if he could go back to sleep. He often couldn't.

Adam was there. In bed. Fast asleep. Hadn't woken him up, what was with that? He usually did, usually told him it was bed time, go to bed. Maybe he didn't want to disturb him. He was perfect like that.

He got in bed, oh so quietly. Turned away from Adam, closed his eyes, was barely even there. They slept.

-

Morning, Adam wasn't there. He should have been there, it was Sunday, they usually kissed each other in the mornings on Sundays. Did he leave? He didn't have work. Maybe it was Monday and he had forgotten. No, definitely Sunday.

Five minutes. Adam came back. Had coffee. Only one cup. Looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, when did you wake up?"

"Just now."

"I would have made you coffee." He didn't. He usually did, just in case.

He shook his head in a simple denial. No thanks. Don't need it. Miserable anyway. You're miserable too, because you're depressed. Aren't we a pair.

He got back in bed. Had a bath robe on, dark blue, had gotten it before he met him. It looked nice. He usually would have told him so, but he didn't.  Kept his mouth shut.

He had stubble on his chin. Enough for him, always made sure he had a little amount for him. Huh.

"You're quiet." You are too.

"I just woke up."

"Yeah, well." Took a sip of his coffee. Looked at him.

"I'm tired."

"Sure you don't want coffee?" He raised his cup just a little in a gesture of suggestion.

"Yeah."

"Okay." Didn't say anything more.

It was quiet. There were barely any sounds at all, save for a gentle humming of appliances in the background and Adam slightly shifting. Nothing. He laid down in bed again, resting his face against the pillow. Looked up at him. Adam looked down.

"You okay?"

"No." Honest.

"Aw. Why not?"

"I'm just not."

"You should be." Another sip. "I don't like it when you're not okay."

"I don't like it when you're not."

"Oh, don't think about that." Looked at him. Blinked. "Don't let it get to you. I'm still the same Adam."

"Yeah, you are."

"You don't sound like you believe it."

"I do." Did he?

"Okay, then." Their more worthless conversations were losing something. Probably showing their lack of worth. Oh well.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Perfect Adam. Not so perfect anymore. What could he say? What should he think? Something had stopped. Ended. What was it?

He went to see Marissa a few days later, and this time around he actually wanted to talk about something. Or someone: Adam. He always talked about Adam, but that was aimlessly and without a clear and defined continuous topic, whereas this time he knew what information he wanted to receive.

Marissa knew, apparently, or had had her suspicions. She didn't seem at all surprised when he told her (awkwardly, and stumbling over a couple of his words), more sad and forlorn. As if she knew this day would come and it finally had. He empathized, to a point.

"Did you tell him he might be depressed?" Him to her. Not expecting any sort of answer.

"Well... I didn't tell him explicitly, no. I did talk to him about his symptoms, just trying to sort things out with him. It's interesting that he went to his doctor, though."

"Why?"

"It's not in a bad way. Just interesting that he took the initiative. He has drive, which can be unusual. Motivation, you know."

Oh, yeah. Motivation. A lack of it was a symptom of depression, wasn't it?

He didn't know anything, and he told her so.

"Can you tell me a bit about depression?" She did.

-

When his nightmares had started becoming recurring, he became afraid that Adam would leave him. No, not afraid - terrified. That was when the idea had struck him, sneaking in to his mind and planting seeds of doubt and fear. Surely Adam would grow to hate him because of his constant infliction of his troubles upon him, right? Surely he would grow sick and tired of this, and eventually him. And he would leave, and what a sorry state both of them would be in.

That didn't happen, of course, but the thought still persisted, making its home and taking permanent residence in the darkest corners of his mind, which seemed like they should remain in the background but behaved in the exact opposite way. And he needed reassurance from Adam himself, which both soothed it and doubled its intensity. It wasn't fun.

Perhaps he would never know what went on in the inner workings of Adam's mind. And honestly, he really did know that it was fine to not know anything. Adam telling him so didn't change a thing. He knew how he should think, and how he should behave, and how he should react to things. That didn't necessarily mean life worked that way, and he had to deal with its effects.

He needed to talk to him again, really talk and get things sorted out, but Adam was busy being his quiet self again, and there was little point to try to engage in serious conversation with him.

He tried anyway. One night, earlier than they usually talked about serious things. Asked him a simple question to start.

"Are you feeling all right?"

Adam looked at him, his expression unreadable. Could have meant anything.

"Yeah. How about you?"

He hadn't been able to pin an accurate label on his emotions in years.

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

Maybe he would help him out with this. Good. "I don't know. I'm never fine, really."

"That's all right."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. Who's the big boss of the world who says we all have to feel a certain way all the time? We don't always have to be cheery, that would kill us."

"I'm never cheery."

"Yes you are. Look at this." Adam leaned over and kissed him, quickly, on the cheek. Unexpected, but not a bad surprise at all. "Does that make you feel totally sad and miserable?"

"No."

"Do you feel apathetic and bored?"

"No. I'm not cheery, though."

"Forget cheery."

He vowed to do so.

"I wanted to ask you something, actually." Here we go.

"What?" 

"Your doctor said you weren't... textbook, right?" Adam nodded. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means I don't fit every little thing they think counts as depression. Which is fine, because it's really a huge list and everyone's different anyway."

"What do you have?"

"Well, I'm tired, for one."

"Now?" He would stop talking to him if that were the case. No use keeping him up for a stupid reason.

"Not much now. But throughout the day."

"Oh. Do you hate work?" Not sure where that particular question had come from.

"No. But I can't work as many hours as I would like. Which means we don't get as much money, but I get enough to pay bills anyway, so that's fine."

He didn't care about that. "What else?"

"Symptoms?" He blinked, and looked off at the end of the room for a moment before frowning. "Well."

He said nothing. Didn't understand, but didn't want to pressure him.

"I've lost my appetite," he said finally. Somehow it sounded more like an excuse than an answer.

"I noticed that." Only once, but still, he had noticed. That counted.

"Did you? Oh, yeah, you asked me about it. Sorry."

"It's okay." Why was that always his default answer? It's okay. Was it ever okay when he said that? Rarely.

"Yeah. And... yeah."

He just looked at him, resolved to say nothing, and leaned back in his bed. Pulled the blanket up.

"You've had enough of me talking?" Joke.

"Never," he mumbled. Suddenly and inexplicably tired. Wanted to sleep for a very long time.

"Aw." Their conversations with each other were shortening. Were they growing tired of each other? Hopefully not.

Very much hopefully not.

"Do you hate me?" He hated asking questions like that. They hurt to keep inside him, and they hurt to say out loud, and it hurt to wait for the answer to them.

"What? No. Absolutely not, never." Sounded like it was obvious that he didn't. Incredulous. He was too, with himself. Of course it was obvious.

"I'm sorry." Again. "I just had to ask."

"Had to?" He always knew.

"It hurts not to." And everything else.

Adam looked at him, and he looked back, at his eyes that were big and brown and soft and beautiful and reflected all that was him. He kissed him on the forehead. "Don't worry."

He wished he couldn't. Why couldn't he? Another thing to talk to Marissa about, ugh.

"Love you."

"You too." Pathetic.

-

Memories slipping. What had he done the day before? What had he done an hour ago? What was he supposed to do? Did he have a purpose in life? No, he was starting to think he didn't.

He asked Adam all of the questions, in order. _What had he done the day before?_ Stayed home, I don't know what you did, and I came home and we had pizza, remember?

He did now. They had ordered it, because they were lazy. He always let Adam handle the transaction, which was weird, because the first time they had ordered pizza he had done it. They had both been naked five minutes before, and Adam had had to hide in the kitchen while he rushed to put on clothes that should by all means have been tossed in the wash. Long story.

 _What had he done an hour ago?_ Adam had snickered and said nothing. He remembered. That memory didn't take too long to recall.

 _What was he supposed to do?_ "Now?" Not quite. In life. "No one on Earth knows that. Don't worry about it." He wished he couldn't.

 _Did he have a purpose in life?_ Of course, Adam said. You're my husband, you're a stunning photographer, you're a wonderful person, you're amazing. Everyone has a purpose in life.

He didn't feel like he did, though. Odd one out.

-

He downloaded the pictures from their anniversary trip off his camera, and looking at each one was an adventure in itself. There were so many of them, many of them appearing to be pretty much identical, but each one unique. And to him, who was both a photographer at heart and a perfectionist by nature, it was aggravating.

He spent at least two hours looking at each picture before Adam came to him and told him to take a break. By then, his eyes were hurting and he was developing a tension headache, but he was nowhere near being done, and that alone was irritating. He came back later, of course. Had to sort through each one. Flip back and forth between three separate shots, all having minute differences akin to slightly differing cloud formations or strange lighting or illuminating or shadowing a bunch of trees. Yep, he was a perfectionist.

He sighed, rubbed his head, sighed again, closed his eyes, breathed. Annoying. This was supposed to be what he loved.

It was, but it was still annoying.

He abandoned it about halfway through. He would return to them later. For now he wanted to be with Adam, as he had not seen him for... how many hours now? He had lost count. Too bad.

-

Sometimes he had nightmares during the daytime. They weren't nightmares per se, but they felt like it, or the aftermath at least. The shaking, mostly. He would lie on the couch, sometimes, or sometimes even just sink to the floor, shaking and crying and what was going on?

That happened the next day. The day after what? He was losing track of the days; they all blended in, meshed together, blurred. He had to stop, because it all hit him at once. Everything. Where was the off button for his mind?

Adam wasn't there. Adam was never there.

It all came flooding. The ship, his nightmares and all the content of them (he thought he could remember them all, but they all blended together, too), Adam, what was wrong with Adam, he was perfect? Used to be?

So many thoughts. Blaming him, all his fault. Like the man on the ship had said, told him, informed him, blamed him, made him blame himself. His fault. The ship was his fault (why didn't he save Adam?), his nightmares were his fault, Adam not being perfect anymore, that was his fault, definitely (why didn't he save him?). Obviously he didn't save him because obviously he didn't care about him. No one lets their significant other become depressed under their nose. He was the cause of it, probably, yes, because Adam hadn't been depressed before him, he was pretty sure. And he was now. It was so obvious. Adam probably hated him, too, because he hated himself, and no one loves someone who hates themselves, and his brain was on fire, make it stop.

He cried, and choked, and shut his eyes but they were flooded anyway and they stung.

He was on the floor. Could have made it to the couch, which was the slightest, most marginal bit more comfortable, but he couldn't. Just fell, because it hit him, out of nowhere, why did it do that?

He needed a new brain.

It passed eventually, but not for a while. The shaking didn't stop, the tension didn't go away, but the crying ceased. That was the first step, he guessed.

He didn't tell Adam. He couldn't tell him anything anymore.

-

He found out anyway. Somehow. Maybe it was by how he looked - miserable. Dark shades of unnatural color under his eyes, as usual. Pale. Breathing was still a bit short.

"What happened?" He knew. Definitely knew.

He didn't say anything. Mumbled something short and incomprehensible that didn't mean anything at all. Rolled over; they were in bed. Smashed his face against the pillow, which squished his nose and felt uncomfortable, but oh well.

"I know something happened, Rick." He couldn't even tell what his tone of voice was any more. Couldn't even guess, because his guesses were usually wrong.

"Nothing." Didn't want to think about it. Wanted to go to bed.

Adam didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. He knew, he just wanted to elicit a response from him. And he was too tired to give one to him. Different. He used to tell him stuff even when he could barely breathe. Not tonight.

-

Slept in the next day, until after eleven o' clock. Woke up, stared at the wall, felt so empty it hurt. Everything hurt, especially inwardly. Why did emotional pain hurt more than physical?

He didn't want to get up, today or tomorrow or ever. And he meant it this time. Didn't want to do anything ever again, especially think.

Something felt weird. Off. Different from the usual amount of pain and anxiety he endured, because that eventually faded away and he could always scrape up something to make his day at least livable. Not today. Today was weird. Today was horrible.

Today... what was today? What was that moment? What was anything? He was sick. Not physically sick, like he had been earlier with his flu or whatever the hell that had been, but more sick in his mind than he had ever been. It had gotten worse, god damn it. He had gone to see Marissa and eventually taken his medication and talked with Adam and it had gotten worse. Amazing.

What was going to happen now? Was it going to continue like this? Were he and Adam going to continue to live their lives in this way? Or was it going to get worse? Adam had told him things would get better eventually, but Adam had gotten worse, and he would too, because if Adam felt bad all the time there was no possible way for him to feel decent. Not anymore.

He was so goddamn sick of this. Sick of everything. Sick of feeling horrible. Sick of the nightmares and the horrible memories, sick of those memories contaminating him and making his mind feel like it was filled with toxic waste and causing him to panic by their mere crossing of his mind. Sick of Adam still being a mystery after almost two years of being together.

Sick of himself. Wanted it to end.

Really wanted it to end. It could end, very easily, very much easily, and who would care? Would Adam care? Adam might care. Might. His parents might care. That was it. That was freaking it. And they would...

Get over it. They could get over it, but he could never get over it.

So easy.

No. Couldn't hurt Adam even more. He still cared. They both still cared.

Where was Adam? Gone? Working. He could still work, despite being depressed, and he couldn't even get out of bed. There were no limits to how pathetic he was.

Sick of thinking that way, too. When would that end? When his brain came to a completely blank, totally empty, dead stop, which would be never, and not soon, because Adam cared about him. Ha.

Adam would come home. How many hours? Less than one, he thought. Could have been. He no longer cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my poor babe


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a bit of a break from all the angst haha

One time, when he and Adam were just boyfriends and not at all sure of what they were doing with themselves (even less that they were now), he had offered to take him to an aquarium. For a date. Adam had accepted almost immediately, and started jabbering to him about how cool that was, and how he could show him everything, ( _he_ could show _him_ everything... it was his idea in the first place) and it would be awesome, and _oh my gosh thanks Rick._

 _You're welcome._ Smiled; he was glad to see him excited about something. It made him happy too.

And Adam had loved it. Totally. He had been there before, apparently, so it wasn't anything new, but he still adored the place to death. He liked the fish with all their differing colors, he supposed. He liked them too, but for photographic reasons, because he really couldn't go anywhere special without his camera.

He did get a lot of pictures of fish and such, but he definitely took more pictures of Adam. Adam gazing up in wonder and appreciation, Adam laughing at various things, Adam looking at him as he talked to him (he didn't much appreciate being photographed while he was trying to tell him something, but he forgave him), Adam pretending to touch starfish, leaving his hand against the glass and laughing at how silly it looked, Adam making faces at fish, who looked as if they made the same faces back if they stretched their imaginations. He liked those. Not professional, but cute.

The nicest pictures of him were among jellyfish, in a darkened room that was only lit up by tanks, of him looking up with his eyes wide in recognition of something that was both familiar and awe-inspiring. The light reflected on his face, leaving just a sliver of illumination. Months later, he got a funny feeling in his stomach when he looked at those pictures - they were beautiful, certainly, but they came coupled with a sense of nostalgia. They had been happy then. Nothing weird, nothing hurting them, just them taking part in a new beginning and enjoying it.

-

A day passed, and a week, and more. A month. It all blended, blurred, a mess. All the same, except different from how it had been before. Less.

It was his birthday, eventually. He woke up not feeling too excited about it. Actually, he woke up not remembering it at all. Adam remembered it for him. Gave him a kiss on the lips and said _hey, guess whose birthday it is!_ He didn't have to guess. He knew from the moment he said it.

Adam gave him presents, too. A memory card for his camera (he had been needing one, thanks hon), a small bottle of cologne (Adam loved it on him and he loved it on Adam, ha ha), a paperback book (some sci-fi one he hadn't heard of before but thanked Adam for regardless), a card, and a hug. He returned the hug, of course.

The card was small, too. Store-bought, and had a fluffy cat on the front. On the inside it stated, "Happy birthday to a dear friend who never makes catty remarks about me."

"I thought it was funny," said Adam. "It's got a pun. And a cat. They're always funny."

He squinted. "What's a catty remark?"

"I think it means mean. Like a jerk. You're never a jerk to me."

"Are you sure?" He set the card aside. Messing with Adam was the best gift he could think of.

"Yes. Which birthday gift was your favorite?"

"Definitely the hug."

"I thought so." He hugged him again. "Funny thing, it comes with a free extension package."

He looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Adam, that is the dirtiest joke you've ever made."

Adam's eyes widened. "What? No! Oh my gosh -"

He laughed.

-

Adam made him a cake, or at least a facsimile of a cake. It wasn't a cake at all. It was a Rice Krispie treat with chocolate frosting sloppily plastered on to it.

He turned it over in his hands, a disgruntled frown on his face. "This is disgusting."

"It's for you."

"It's pure sugar."

"Not pure sugar. There's some food coloring."

He turned it over again, and the smallest chunk of frosting fell into his hand. "There is no nutritional value to it whatsoever."

"Well, you're right about that."

"You could have made me a cake."

"But I didn't, did I? Eat it. Enjoy it."

He ate it, in a way that involved a huge mess and a great deal of pain. It was fun, though. And sweet. Man, that was sweeter than any cake that had ever been baked.

"Was I supposed to enjoy that?"

"I said you need to. Did you?"

"No."

"Hm. Happy birthday to you."

"Thank you."

They were joking, of course.

They got in bed later that night and Adam kissed him, and kissed him again, and again, and said _three for you._ He kissed him back and said _an infinite amount for you, darling._

Flirting. He was only three years younger than him now, technically… well, not really, but if they only went by age...

"You're still way older than me."

" _Way_ older?" Shocked. Offended. Not really either of those.

"What difference does a year make? We're not the same age, so you're way older."

"I resent the _way._ And that means you're younger. You'll never catch up to me."

"This isn't a game."

"You seem to think it is."

They kissed each other again - the only appropriate way to continue that conversation.

"Happy birthday, babe." How many times had Adam wished him that today? So many. He would have to make it up on his birthday. Or out-perform him, somehow.

"Thank you." Smile. Just looked at him. Didn't want anything else on his birthday.

"I have another present for you." Smirk. Of course he did.

"Is it a puppy?"

"You wish. Nope."

"Is it a new car?"

"You _really_ wish. Nope."

"Is it a private suite at a hotel in Las Vegas?"

"What do you need that for?"

"I bet they're really comfortable. They need to provide the highest of luxuries to all the rich people."

"Whatever. Nope."

He sighed and leaned in to kiss him again in a rather passionate and uncoordinated way. Adam grabbed at the back of his head, oh.

"Is it this?" he said.

"Two-point-oh."

"Oh, indeed." Returned his smirk. They smirked at each other.

"It doesn't involve any suites, though."

"This is good enough." Kissed him. Never wanted to stop doing that.

-

He needed to shower. So did Adam. Fancy that.

It was the next morning, not his birthday anymore. Yesterday had been nice, nicer than he had expected or even hoped for, but then again, he hadn't been expecting anything at all. He had been in a rather awful mood. Maybe Adam had noticed, and that was why he had made it so nice. That was probably why.

"Adam?"

"Ughhh." He was awake.

"Wake up, loser."

"I am up. Kid. Twenty-seven year old."

"What did you do the day after your twenty-seventh birthday?"

"How the heck should I know? Nothing, probably."

He had asked him yesterday what he had done on his twenty-seventh birthday. That had been about the same response.

He poked him. "Get up."

"Let me sleep for about nine years."

"Up. You're gross."

"Gee, that's motivation." He rolled over on his stomach and smashed his face into his pillow. His back almost glistened in the sudden sunlight of the day, probably due to the dried sweat on it. His hair was incredibly greasy.

He wanted a picture of him. Too bad he had left his camera elsewhere.

"Get up or I'll divorce you."

"Oh, you will, will you. Where are you going to get a lawyer? Huh?"

He had never thought about that. That showed how much consideration he had put into that topic. "Somewhere."

"You take a shower."

"You do it."

They both did. Compromise.

-

"Did you take your medication?"

A bit later in the day, still not noon. They had been awake for about an hour. Ugh, he hated that question.

"No."

"Can you?"

"I can." He would, because Adam would continue to bug him about it until he did. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen. The cabinets needed some refurbishment, but there was never enough money and time for that.

"Don't _you_ have medication?" It came to his mind unexpectedly, just a passing thought. Adam didn't say anything. "Hm?"

"No."

"Do you need it?"

Quiet. "Maybe." That was quiet too.

"Maybe you should talk to your doctor about that."

"Probably." He walked away. Oh. He hated when that happened. He asked a question and Adam would get hurt by it, and what was he supposed to do? Nothing. They were both helpless.

-

Marissa asked how his birthday had been. He told her that it was fine, of course. He was starting to get used to talking to her. She was nice, genuinely nice, and he had forgotten that.

"What did you do?"

Wouldn't she like to know. "Nothing. Just stayed home with Adam."

"Oh. Did you like that?"

"Yeah." He had never been a fan of huge birthday celebrations, although that probably had to do with him never having had a proper birthday party when he was a kid.

"How about Adam? Noticed any change in him?"

Change? No. He was still the same as always. But how could he tell, really? His eyes were untrustworthy.

"No change..."

"No?" That was a transition - she had heard the slow drift off at the end of that phrase.

"...But I can't tell." There it was.

"I'm sure you can. Give yourself credit."

"I couldn't tell that he's depressed, though." A fact. One that he probably wasn't going to get over any time soon.

Marissa looked at him in contemplation, and then, after a few moments, said, "Let me tell you a secret."

"What?"

"It's actually pretty rare when someone can."

Oh.

-

He was beginning to get sick of not having friends. He had Adam, of course, and he supposed Marissa was a sort of a friend, but other than that there was no one. Not a soul that he talked to, that enjoyed his company, that he even knew. Did he have acquaintances? Not since he left college.

It would be nice all around if he did. Marissa would be very pleased if he had friends; she always told him he should get some. Join a club or society, as if that were the easiest thing in the world. Volunteer. Get a job, for Pete's sake.

A job. He was a photographer, but that was a hobby, wasn’t it? But that was all he had ever wanted to do. He could sell a picture, maybe. Get a print and give it to someone who liked it. Some time he would get recognition for his photography. In the future, probably when he was dead.

-

Adam had brought out his guitar again, finally. It had been collecting dust, stuck in the back of a closet in a case that was coated with an equal amount of dust. It had been at least a month. Already? Didn't seem that long.

He sat on the floor, and Adam sat on the couch with his legs loosely crossed, looking down at his guitar and strumming. He was so beautiful. Obviously tired and unfocused, but still beautiful.

He had brought out his camera, and he took a picture of him. Adam looked up and glared at him.

"I don't appreciate that."

"Tough luck. They're my pictures."

"What if you show them to someone?"

"Who? Marissa? My mom?" He laughed and looked down at his camera to see the picture he had taken. Yes, that was nice indeed. Perfect amount of exposure, and not the least bit blurry - he would keep that one.

"The FBI."

"Oh, sure. I'll bet they're extremely interested in this picture of you, absentmindedly playing your guitar. They want the evidence. This is a real crime."

"Your sarcasm is well toned." He went back to playing his guitar. Almost started playing a melody.

"I like to think it is."

"Shut up. I'm dedicating this song to someone."

"Ooh, who?"

He didn’t look up. "A loved one. A person who has been with me for years, a person who has supported me, a person who has exhibited interest in my carrying on of the passion that I hold for music. Yes, this one's for my awesome Uncle Russ."

"I hate you."

"You disrespect Uncle Russ. You should meet him sometime, I bet you two would get along."

"I bet." Watched him.

His fingers caressed the strings of the guitar. Really quite beautiful hands. They looked strong, and he knew they were. A bit calloused, but whose hands weren't? A ring on his finger. His. He smiled as he looked at it. He had had a lot of contact with those hands.

Adam was looking at him now. He looked up. Beautiful eyes, too.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Your hands." Why bother saying anything else.

"What about them?"

"They fit you."

"That makes sense, seeing as they're my hands."

"I like them." Of course he did. They were always warm, probably the warmest part of him.

"I like yours." Smiled. Returned to his guitar. Started playing an actual song. Without words, though none of them did have words. Still melodic. Was it his creation or someone else's?

"Yours?"

Looked back at him. "The song? Yeah."

That was weird to think about. Adam, a songwriter. A marine biologist songwriter. Very talented. He only had his photography himself.

Man, he loved Adam. He should tell him more. He did, just then.

"I love you too." Good.

-

He asked Adam. Finally.

"Have you ever thought about doing that professionally?" Adam knew what he was talking about. Maybe he had asked him that question before. Who knows? They had talked about so, so many things in all those days they had spent together.

He didn't expect the answer.

"Yeah, actually."

Well, that brought up so many other questions. When? How long? Seriously? How seriously? Would your songs have lyrics or not? Only on guitar? Huh?

He only asked the third question.

"Yeah, seriously. You surprised by that?"

"A little." A lot, actually, but he felt dumb saying so.

"No, I have. I don't know if I ever would or not, but I would like to. It would be kind of hard, though, 'cause I have a job already and everything."

Ah, yes. That job. The one that took Adam away from him for a few hours each day. That one. That obstacle.

"You should do it anyway."

"Should I?" Was he considering it or just being polite?

"Yeah."

"Hm." Not an answer, but a response in itself. No more of that.

Still air. Dark. Silent. Only noise was the gentle rustling of bed sheets, and even that was kept to a minimum. The world muted. Maybe he could go to sleep early this night, and quickly, and continually. The last few nights hadn't held any nightmares, and he was hoping to continue that record, but he never knew. Hope was the only input he could offer to that situation, although it seemed to be doing fine on its own. Maybe it was the medication finally working.

Adam was quiet. Not sleeping, not yet, but almost. Probably more at peace than he was. As usual. Although, who knows? He could never tell. He was having an even worse time telling nowadays, and even that was of no importance.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no I did not download the sims 4 just to create adam and rick sims and make them smooch and get married and do romantic stuff....why would I do that...I am a mature adult...

Sometimes he kissed the scars that had formed from Adam's cuts, when he was feeling lonely or out of whack, or just whenever. Adam didn't mind. He appreciated it, maybe. Never said anything, just let him. Kiss and kiss and kiss, his lips pressed as softly as he could make it on Adam's skin. Did it make it better? He didn't know.

Maybe it was ridiculous, but he found comfort in doing that. Surely Adam did too. It turned something awful and permanent in to something they both could cope with.

It was funny, though, how all the cuts seemed symmetrical and perfect. Like they were planned, like they were something as simple as a doctor's surgery markings. And barely visible; he knew they were there, and Adam knew they were there, of course, but no one else could tell just by looking at him, or even by specifically searching for them. It was as if they weren't there at all, but they were, and they would never fade completely.

He thought about that a lot. Those scars would never go away, so what were the chances of all his troubles disappearing? Not likely. He would have to embrace them and learn to live with them, like Adam learned to live with the scars. And if learning to live with that included kisses, well. All the better.

"Do they bother you?" He could have asked the same to him, and it probably would have been more pertinent. They were his scars, after all; he had been the one under the knife. But he just shrugged.

"Sometimes."

"Yeah." Adam looked lost. He hugged him, because he felt like it.

"Oh."

He kissed him quickly. "How are you feeling?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Obviously not that spectacular.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"I'm not sure."

He knew the feeling. Inarticulate, couldn't possibly describe in a regular usage of the English language how he was feeling. Just wanted to fade away. He hugged him again.

"What's the hugging for?"

He didn't answer. "Go to sleep."

"Okay." He needed it, badly. Maybe in the morning he would feel better. Hopefully.

\- 2015 -

He had been so nervous when he introduced Adam to his mom. No, not nervous - beyond fearful. He had never had any sort of significant other in his life, not at all in his teenage years or even in college, and thus he had no idea how to properly introduce them to each other. How to show him off, really, and show that he wasn't that bad, or bad at all. What should he say? How should he act? What to do?

Adam told him to be natural. Worst advice ever. _Just be natural,_ sure, just turn off the areas of his brain that created worry and stress. He had never, ever been able to master that.

He _was_ natural, though, in his own way. He called his mom first, to warn her, and brought Adam over to his parents' house, because that was what they were supposed to do, and where else would they go anyway. Said _hey, Mom_ (because she had answered the door), _look at my boyfriend Adam, he would very much like to meet you._ And Adam had taken over from there, thank God.

"So you're the infamous mom of Rick." Best introduction ever. Could have been uttered by James Bond.

"I am!" She seemed happy enough already. Huh.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you." Beaming, charming smile. "I'm Adam."

"Are you? I've heard so much about you. Come on in." Barely glanced at him, her only son. He was perfectly fine with that.

"Did you take a class in successfully impressing moms?" he said to Adam under his breath once they were inside.

"Aced it," he replied.

He probably had.

Adam had continued this charade, no matter if it was superficial or not, and his mom had loved it, loved him. And it was great, better than he had expected.

"So you met Rick at sea?" At sea. That's what she called it. Made him sound like he was in the Navy or something.

"I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"We bumped into each other in a hallway."

Had to bring that up.

"Literally bumped into each other," he added.

"Classic. Couldn't have been more cliché."

"You weren't hurt, were you?" Good old Mom.

"Nah."

"He was struck by love," said Adam.

"Struck? Strick... en?"

"Stricken is not a word. Is it?"

"Mom, is stricken a word?"

"I don't know," she said. "I've never heard it before."

"Struck. Bitten by the vampire of romance."

He couldn't have picked a better boyfriend, honestly. He was great. A real charmer. A real comedian. Made all the stupid jokes and puns his mom would adore.

So they had hung out there for about an hour or two. Just talked and gradually introduced Adam. His mom didn't seem to find a fault in him, which was good, because he didn't either.

"I should tell you," said Adam, "Rick is phenomenally brave."

He looked down, of course. Away from them. Didn't look at him or his mom, who probably either had some look of sudden pride or surprise on her face. Adam was probably sporting the slightest hint of a smirk. He didn't bother looking, no.

"Is he?"

"Yep."

He didn't like how this conversation was going. He hadn't told his mom anything about the situation on the other ship, and he didn't feel like ever doing so, and he especially didn't want Adam to inform her. Although, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

He looked up at him anyway. Widened his eyes just slightly. _Don't do it._

Adam blinked. _Relax, I won't tell her everything._

Okay.

"I imagine Rick wasn't too much of an outgoing kid, was he?"

Oh, he was going _that_ route. He would have to do something about that later in return, or revenge. Maybe kick him out of bed some time when it was real cold out.

"Not too much." Oh, Mom, the sentimentalist. The understater. He was the exact opposite of outgoing.

"Well, that's changed. He did an amazing job at handling the photojournalist aspect of it all, I think. Got up with everyone and took some great shots of everyone in line, getting orders, and all of that. And... should I tell her?"

He looked at him. He wasn't going to tell her exactly what had happened. Some version of it that wasn't a lie but wasn't exactly the full truth either.

"Sure."

"Okay. Well, a couple of weeks in we had an... unexpected rendezvous with another ship."

"They sort of attacked us," he added.

His mom gasped. "What?"

"It wasn't an attack, really."

"It sort of was."

"Okay, it was. But not in, like, a Pirates of the Caribbean sort of way, with cannons and guns and stuff. They just..."

"They attacked us."

"Shut up, Rick. What's a nicer way of putting it?"

"They seized us?"

"Sure. Anyway, a few of them came on board and took us... hostage, I guess?"

He nodded, pretending to understand in what way Adam's mind was moving.

"They made us all stand together -"

"And shouted orders at us," he added, having a moment of inspiration. "You know, stay together, we're not going to kill you but we might if you fight against us, et cetera."

His mom was stricken, watching both of them with confusion and worry. She was such a stereotypical mom. He almost wanted to tell her not to worry, but what was he kidding, he was the biggest worrywart there was.

"And we all had to obey them, of course," said Adam. "Because they were big and scary and all. And Rick, what did you do?"

He had to make up something fast. Oh.

"Um. Well, they didn't know I had my camera on me, because no one else had a camera, obviously. But I took that as an advantage. I was pretty scared they would find out and take it from me, and so I hid it in my jacket."

"And they asked him," said Adam. "'Why aren't you in uniform?' Because he didn't have the standard uniform for officers. And he said, 'well, I'm the lower staff,' and that was a bit confusing because the actual lower staff had their own uniforms too. Rick was sort of by himself."

"But that was fine," he continued. His mom was watching him with more interest than she had shown him in the past couple of months. "I thought quickly, and I said I hadn't had time to change into it, and I was about to start my shift. And they bought that."

"I don't think they cared. They just wanted to terrorize people. But Rick could have easily been scared, and gave in, and who knows what would have happened to him? But he was quick thinking, and they moved on."

"And," he said, "the best part was that I still had my camera. I didn't get a picture, that was too risky, but I still had it with me... and that had everything that I had recorded on it."

Which was an extremely good thing, given some of the content on the camera. Not all of it was of the inner workings of the ship and its valiant crew.

"So Rick saved the day," Adam finished with a smile.

"It wasn't that great."

"It was to me."

He smiled back at him, and then looked at his mom. She gave him a hug, which he accepted gratefully.

"Oh, Rick," she said. "I thought that program would be awful, but look where you are now."

"I would say it's pretty good." And it was, for the most part. It was.

-

The important part in that story was that, although the exact situation was fabricated, the underlying aspects of it were the truth. They had been taken hostage, in a way, or at least the rest of the people on the ship had; perhaps they really had even gone through a situation identical to the one he and Adam had made up. He had kept the camera to himself, even when it was threatened to be taken from him, even when he couldn't believe they weren't bothering to see it and take it. He had saved that part of history. And Adam really and truly did think he was brave.

He didn't understand that. Him, brave? Nah. Adam was more brave than he could ever hope to be. Adam was the one who had been close to death. Him? Not even a scratch.

"That's not all it, though," Adam had said to him once when he had told him exactly that. "Our entire experience wasn't all based on who got the most cuts on their skin. And it's not exclusive, like, I'm the one they took a knife out to hurt so I'm the only one who can get anything out of it. You went through it too, so you have every right to feel proud of yourself for living."

Wise words that he wished he could absorb entirely. That would be nice. He hadn't forgotten them, but they never really reached the point of applying to him on a mental state.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt proud of himself. It must have been a long, long time ago, because he certainly never felt proud of himself in his days at any level of school. Maybe he had and he didn't remember it. Maybe. He could never remember anything.

He had asked Adam if he were proud of himself. He said _in a way,_ which could have meant anything. He asked for clarification, and he said that he couldn't give it to him, because he didn't know himself. Hm.

-

He kissed his fingers, too. Fingers, scars, everything else that could be kissed, he did so. Adam liked it, he didn't even have to ask to confirm.

Did he ever have to confirm that? No.

He liked kissing his fingers. There was something different about kissing them than about kissing any other part of his body. Felt more tangible. He had felt those fingers everywhere, but rarely on his lips.

Took his hand, brushed his lips against his fingers. Adam shivered. That was different, too; when Adam shivered it meant whatever he was doing to him was real nice indeed.

Took them away. That was all.

\- 2016 -

A couple of days before they had gotten married, he had done that, kissed his fingers, and Adam had told him not to stop. He had done it again, just to appraise him. Then grabbed it with his own hand and squeezed, because they were in love. Adam's hand still had an engagement ring, aw.

Warm hands. Adam's were warmer than his, of course, as they always were. They fit so nicely in with each other. So comfortable. Yes, he could see himself doing this, living this life, for the rest of his days.

"You ready for Saturday?" Whispered. Saturday was their wedding day.

"In some ways yes." Sounded nervous a bit, aw. "In some ways no."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I want to just get it over with."

"Aw." He squeezed his hand again. "It'll be over before you know it, and then we'll spend the rest of our lives looking back and wishing we could do it all over again."

"True."

\- 2017 -

They did exactly that. Looked back on their wedding day and wishing they could achieve that level of happiness once again. Well, he did, anyway. He wasn't sure about Adam.

"Do you wish we could be as happy as we were when we got married?" Wasn't expecting any answer in particular. Maybe even none at all.

"Like, all the time, or just one day or so?"

Asking the important questions. He hadn't thought of that.

"You pick."

"Hm. Well, if it were just one day, then maybe. It would be nice to be that happy again, because I think both of us tend to forget what it really feels like to be happy."

That was definitely true. When was the last time he had felt really happy? Had he, since his anxiety had first attacked him? At all?

Maybe he had, a few times. Many times. His life certainly wasn't all pain and suffering and nightmares. He had the chance to talk with Adam on a daily basis, didn't he? What was this right now?

"But if it's all the time... no. That would make it nothing. And I mean nothing, just nothing of value, that means anything. If you live a certain way all the time, especially if it's good, it starts to become the norm, and that's bad. It spoils it. If we were really happy all the time, we would get bored of it, and we might even get bored of each other. There would be too much spice in our life, and it would make our lives become bland. You see?"

He did, actually. He did.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh

It was Adam's birthday eventually, too. He didn't know what to do for him. Celebrate, obviously, but how? He had never been one for parties or celebrations of any sort, especially of the birthday kind. Adam wouldn't mind anything he did, of course, but still. He wanted to make it special for him, because he had made his birthday special, and he had to return the favor.

He woke up after Adam, because he usually did. Adam woke him up. Had his arms wrapped around him, which was a pleasant surprise. Not really a surprise at all.

"Good morning," said Adam into the back of his neck. His breath tickled.

"Happy birthday," he said, facing the wall. Still talking to him, of course.

"Oh, you remembered, did you?" Didn't let go; held him tighter, actually. Like a koala bear.

"I did."

"What are you gonna do for me?" Could have said 'to me' instead, and it would have elicited the same tone.

"Something."

"Did you plan this out? At all?"

"I don't need to." He didn't really want to leave this position. He could have gone back to sleep, back to the land of dreams, and there would be no nightmares as an effect, because it was just that nice.

"Hm." Hummed, a long slow hum, quiet. Shifted towards him. Didn't let go.

"Did you want something for your birthday?" His voice was low. His throat hurt, somewhat, but just from sleep. It would go away.

"Mm, I want something." He certainly did.

"Is it accessible at this moment?"

"Oh yes."

"How accessible?"

Kissed his neck. Felt good. "Extremely."

Nice.

-

He felt like he had been punched several times in a row and then run over with a lawn mower.

"If you make me get up I'll kill you. On your birthday."

"You are such a baby."

"Am not."

"You are. You're so weak."

"Thanks." He was. Honestly, he really couldn't handle much.

"I'm getting up. You don't have to." He did. Wasn't mad, just proving a point. He made a face at him as he walked off.

"You suck as a husband."

Adam poked his head back in. "Oh do I now?"

"What!"

Adam laughed and left the room again. He scowled at him.

"You didn't even get dressed," he yelled. Adam didn't answer.

He smashed his face back into the pillow. Sleep again.

-

He slept for about twenty minutes, maybe, before waking up again. He didn't feel quite like he was dying this time, which was an improvement.

Got up. Wasn't sure if he wanted to put clothes on, ending up deciding not to, because Adam hadn't. Found Adam. He was relaxing on the couch, what a surprise.

"You're back to being four years older than me, you know." Sat down next to him.

"I wasn't before?"

"No. For a while it was three years."

"That's not how it works."

"Well, I think it should."

"Oh."

He leaned over and kissed him. "Happy birthday," he said again.

"It's still my birthday?"

"Oh, shut up." Kissed him again.

"Rude."

"I know."

"Are we doing anything?" Kissed him back, for a change.

"Right now?"

"No, stupid, I meant later."

"Should've said that." He drew away from him. Enough kisses.

-

He felt strange. Different from the world, but not different from himself. Out of it was the colloquial term. What was time anyway?

It passed by so quickly. One moment it was the shining sunny morning, the next it was past two. Adam, Adam, didn't celebrate his birthday good enough. Presents?

He had bought him things. Forgot about them until now. Oops.

What had he bought him? He had left them in the back of the closet, underneath a pile of dirty clothes Adam wouldn't bother to pick up. Tucked far away, but he remembered. He had done that with their engagement rings, too, though not in the closet or near any sort of clothes.

In a kitchen cabinet. That's where they had been.

Irrelevant. Yes, here they were. The carpet under his knees was tattered; it used to be a lot cleaner and fluffier and generally nicer looking. Too bad.

What had he gotten him? A book. About marine biology, because what else. A bag of chocolates, guess what, just like when they had gotten engaged, ha ha. Another book, nonfiction, had a baby owl on the cover, looked very cute. It was about the baby owl. He would love it. Adam had gotten him a book too, hadn't he? Yeah. They were similar indeed.

And a print of one of the pictures he had taken of the lake. On their anniversary. He had edited that one, not too much, just to bring out lighting and make it cleaner. He would love that too.

Adam did love all of it, every single object. He was especially delighted by the owl book. Said it was _adorable,_ and _oh my gosh, look at that fluffy little thing it's so cute look at it Rick._

He had looked at it. Told him so. _No, but look at it again._ Sighed, did. He had to admit it was quite cute.

Adam especially loved the picture. He said it was the most beautiful picture he had ever seen, but he said that about all his pictures.

He smiled at him. Glad he was happy.

They spent the rest of the day, or evening really, alone together. Just hanging. Chilling. Being them. Relaxing mostly. No, he didn't have a cake, or even a faux one. Adam didn't mind. They retired to bed early, because why not, they were cheerful and content and all that jazz.

"Thank you." Adam.

"For what?" Him.

"For a great birthday, that's what."

"Oh?"

"I loved it."

Adam was thirty-one now. Hard to believe. When they had met he was twenty-eight.

He wasn't even twenty-eight yet.

"What part did you like best?" he asked him.

"The part where you were there the whole time."

"Oh." It was a Saturday. Adam had been there the whole time too, because he could be. No work.

"Anyway, good night." That was that. Sleep tight.

Hm. It was dark out. He was awake, somewhat, but at the same time, he didn’t feel quite conscious. He needed to sleep, though, definitely. Join Adam in the land of slumber and dreams where no one could hurt either of them. Everything was pleasant.

-

That weird sickness was coming back. It had gone away, and he had been happy when he had, but it crept back to him. Stealthily. It had a plan of attack, and it was in no mood to abandon it.

He woke up the next day with a headache. Just a twinge in his temples, but it hurt nonetheless. Dull and tight, and he disliked it. Adam told him to take some medicine for it, but only after he had eaten. He didn’t have an appetite. That was how it had been the last time, too.

He stayed in bed for most of that morning. He would have anyway, probably, on any other day, but this was Sunday. Supposed to get up, no, Adam said _go back to sleep, babe,_ so he did. Didn't notice that he had until he woke up again and it was half past eleven instead of just before seven forty-five.

He was sweaty, too. Sweating under a blanket was the worst kind. It left him feeling sticky and dirty and grimy and just plain gross, like he needed to bathe for a week. He didn't even bathe for a second on that day.

"Adam?" Not there. Where had he gone? Away, presumably. Wished he hadn't, he could have used a bit of company, especially from him.

Closed his eyes, but it hurt to do that so he opened them again. Like they were being forced open, and under no circumstances could they be shut. Nice. He had no control, even over his eyelids.

He wanted to get up, but he couldn't. He needed to eat and drink, but he couldn't. He needed to show some sort of movement, but he couldn't. Waiting to throw up. Fearing it. It was going to come, wasn't it, and what could he do. Not a thing. Suffer through it, just like he suffered through every other little thing.

Felt sick. His stomach felt weird. Adam.

_Aaaah dumb ha ha ha ha_

He wanted to go back to sleep so badly what was this he was going insane. What was this. Ugh, Adam, come back, really do it now, come back to me darling.

Smashed his head in to his pillow and moaned. Maybe Adam would come back if he heard that.

He didn't. Silence. His brain was pounding, filling the emptiness of the room. Thanks.

The room was bright, so bright. It was the regular daylight, of course, the same as ever, but somehow it hurt even more that day. Like it was all focused on him and shining with an intensity that could kill. Was it the stupid curtains again? Adam really did need to buy new ones. Hopefully at that very instant in time.

Could have closed his eyes, if he turned away from the light, but no. He just lied there. Was there any point to getting out of bed? None that were positive. Maybe if someone found the cure to all sicknesses, he would get up and get it. But not any other time.

Quiet. The room was quiet, the house was quiet, everything was quiet except his brain. Pounding still, ceaselessly. What was the point to any of it? There was none. Just this. Pain forever.

He did get up for a minute to vomit, and it was more disgusting because he hadn't eaten anything and it was -

Didn't want to think about it. No. Gone.

Empty. He almost left, could almost do it, was about to leave, but he didn't. Couldn't. He lied on the bathroom floor, because he was so hot and sweaty and gross and it was so freaking blazing boiling hot that he needed to cool down, badly, immediately. Took off his shirt, too, didn't even know why he had it on. Sweat sweat sweaty sweet death come.

His eyes hurt, what was that, lights? God? God was there to put him out of his misery, finally. Blinding lights, he had to shut his eyes, oh they were already shut and his brain was pounding. Get out.

No

-

"Rick? Rick babe wake up, it's Adam. Come on."

He was awake, at that moment. Just didn't want to move. Couldn't open his eyes, maybe didn't want to breathe because that took too much of his energy. Adam was there, oh.

"Rick, I - I'm serious, I'm going to call an ambulance. Tell me you're okay."

He was going to call for one, finally. After all those times he both said to call and said not to call. He made a soft noise with his throat, barely, and it took a lot of his remaining strength but he had to let Adam know he was at least alive.

"Are you okay? Come on."

He tried to open his eyes, but squinted them instead. The light was still so bright and blinding. That couldn’t be natural.

"'M kay," he said, so quietly.

"No, I don't think you are. Do you need anything?"

He felt cold now. Not hot. Where had all that heat gone? Maybe all the sweat had coated him so much that it had cooled him sufficiently. His body at work, protecting him from harm.

What did he need? Everything. Maybe he really did need an ambulance, maybe he didn't. He wasn’t in the position to make any sort of decision.

"Need to get up." His voice was slurred. That was one thing he did need, yes.

"Okay." He sounded shaky. Scared, probably, but what of? He wasn't anywhere close to actually dying.

He needed to open his eyes first. Managed it. Tried to support himself. Grabbed on to Adam instead; he was crouching right next to him. Always supportive.

"Shh." He grabbed on to him in return. Together they got up. It was a difficult process; he nearly fell over again, and Adam had to grab on to his sides. That hurt, but then again, there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt.

He leaned on to him. Felt like he was going to collapse. Shouldn't. Don't do it.

"Couch," he said.

"Okay."

Couch. He lied down on that and it felt so much better than the floor, the stupid tile floor of the bathroom that was probably already disgusting without him contributing to it.

"Are y'still gonna call amb'lance?"

"I think I need to." Sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at him, eyes fraught with worry. "You look horrible."

"What happen?" Closed his eyes again, turned his head against the couch. Rested his cheek against the moderately cold couch cushion, and it almost felt comfortable.

"I don't know. I found you lying there. What were you doing?"

"Throwing up." He swallowed. Needed to brush his teeth.

"Oh." Tapped his fingers rapidly on the couch. "That's not good. You're really sick? Again?"

"Mm." Didn't want to talk any more. Probably had to.

"What else are you feeling?" Yes.

Headache, was it gone? He couldn't tell. It seemed gone.

"Numb."

"Like how?"

"Everything." Better, somehow, but couldn't much talk. That was the only problem. Still tired, though. God, he was so tired. If he could sleep forever that would be the best thing in the world that could possibly be offered to him, besides maybe a guarantee of eternal happiness for Adam.

"Do you need to sleep?"

"I did sleep." Extensively.

"I know, but..." But what? Didn't finish.

"Don't leave." Had the strangest feeling that he might, only temporarily, but still. Wanted him there. The last time he had gone...

"I won't."

"Ever."

"I won't."

"Okay." Still feeling weird, so weird. "Numb."

"Yeah."

"It hurts everywhere." It did. That was the feeling. Like his entire body had fallen asleep.

He felt Adam shift. "It does?"

"Yeah..." His voice trailed off. Maybe not an ambulance, but... "Hosp'tal?"

"What?"

"Am I really sick."

"You might be."

"I can't really talk." What was that? His tongue felt weird, too. Maybe he would bite it off if he shut his mouth too quickly. Shouldn't do that, definitely don't do that. "Don't call an ambulance."

"You can't talk?"

"Not really. Adam -" He had left. Don't call an ambulance, he had said.

He came back a minute later. Had a glass of water. Held it near his face. "Drink it."

Maybe something bad would happen if he drank it. Nothing in particular, just badness. No, but it was Adam offering it to him, it couldn't kill him.

He grabbed it, his hands shaking. Sat up slowly, drank it slowly. Didn't really help much with anything.

"Better?" He had so much hope. Worry, too, there was no shortage of his worry, but hope definitely existed in him. He wished he could have it.

"No."

"Okay." Stood up, oh no Adam, don't go away. "Okay." Walked off.

Not okay. Adam - No, he was gone. Would he come back? He came back the last time. No more water. Maybe he wouldn't come back this time and it would be all his fault for not trying hard enough to keep him there.

He felt sick again. Probably going to die. Adam why does this happen every time you leave -


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I posted this already but I guess I didn't? Anyway you get 2 chapters today because (1) I wanted to end it exactly 1 year from when I first posted this and (2) because it's Adam and Rick's anniversary!! Woo hoo.

Adam didn't call an ambulance, but they did end up going to the hospital. Adam drove him. Gave him a clean t-shirt and a bottle of water and helped him in to the car, and the drive there was twenty minutes of pain that took forever and ever and ever.

What was wrong with him? Malnutrition, just a bit, and overexertion, a lot, coupled with a migraine. Amazing. He hadn't even noticed.

They drew his blood and gave him a washcloth to put on his forehead, which was nice, and told him to relax, and gave him some sort of smoothie that tasted like liquidized medicinal capsules. And left him with Adam, who had been with him the whole time.

"When was the last time you ate?" the nurse had asked him. He couldn't remember.

"Yesterday?" Was it yesterday? Adam's birthday? No. "Day before, maybe." He really couldn't remember.

Adam looked at him as if he were saying he hadn't eaten in a month. It felt like it.

"Why haven't you been eating?" Good question.

"I don't know. I guess I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"Yeah. I haven't been hungry. Maybe 'cause I'm sick." He was.

"That's really no excuse. You need to eat."

"I know." Didn't look at him. Wanted a blanket, suddenly. They hadn't given him one, but they had offered to, and he had declined. Mistake.

"When we get home I'm going to make you eat, you know. Should I take some time off work?"

No, no, that was the absolute worst idea. Never. "No, you don't have to do that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Kind of wanted to get off this subject, but he had put himself in this situation, so he had to suffer through the consequences.

"Do you need a new washcloth?" He had forgotten about it; it had been mildly soaked when the nurse had given it to him, but now it was simply damp and useless.

"Yeah, I guess."

Adam took it off his forehead, and he brushed his fingers against his skin. They felt hot. Maybe Adam was sick too.

"Are you all right?"

Furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Just wondering."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"

He was nowhere close to being fine. "Yeah."

Adam shifted so that he was facing him directly. Looked serious. "Look, Rick, we need to talk."

The four worst words in the universe. He nodded. Prepare for the worst.

"I don't think you're caring for yourself as much as you should be." Oh. "I mean, obviously you're not, because you're here, but it's getting worse."

He was the one with depression. Why wasn't he worse off? Why didn't he act depressed if he had it? Then maybe he could take care of him.

Ha. He couldn't even take care of himself. Adam was right, as usual.

"I keep telling you this, but you really, really need to eat every day. Trust me. I didn't, and it was bad."

He hadn't? When? He hadn't noticed. When had he ever noticed anything like that?

"Remember when I went to see my doctor and he told me I might be depressed? It wasn't just that I was tired, it was that my appetite had gone down."

He had noticed that, actually. Adam hadn't been eating, and he had told him to, and he hadn't. But that had changed. Why?

"You need to force yourself to eat." He poked him. "Make yourself. It's hard, but it's the only thing you can do. I'm not around every second of the day, you know."

He did know. All too well.

"So yeah. And what else was it that the nurse said?"

"Migraine?"

"Overexertion. You need to relax. I don't think I need to tell you that."

"No."

Another nurse couldn't find the right place to stick the syringe at first when she had been trying to draw his blood, and he was starting to form a bruise where she had been unsuccessful. That probably wouldn't go away for a while.

"So you got that? Eat and relax. And drink water, too, you probably don't drink enough."

"No."

"Like I said. Take care of yourself." He smiled at him, and he wasn't sure why. He didn't deserve a smile. "All right?"

"All right." He would do it, for Adam's sake. He hated seeing him upset.

They stayed there for a bit longer, because the doctors and nurses were busy and had multiple patients, not just him, and they were all probably more important than him, too. Had more serious problems. He told Adam that, and he denied it, of course, but he believed it.

He had been to the hospital before, once, after he and Adam had gotten married. When he first got the terribly anxiety and nightmares that he just lived with now. They told him he had post traumatic stress disorder, which was laughable, because he had barely been in any sort of trauma. Soldiers who had been prisoners of war and had seen more deaths than they could count had that. Not him. He hadn't even seen one person die.

Marissa said it was perfectly logical for him to have it, because of the situation on the ship and what they had done to Adam, but that didn't make sense. He shouldn't have constant nightmares and shakiness because of it, and Adam didn't have a sign of weakness to him at all, so why him? And why that? Didn't make sense.

He tended to ignore that. It was better to pretend he didn't have anything and everything was okay. Which it wasn't, not even close. The only person he could possibly fool with that was Adam, and he sure as hell didn't believe it, so it was useless. Everything was useless.

The nurse knew about it, because he had to tell her. It probably accounted for everything, because it did with everything else.

The stupid ship. Why had he gone on it in the first place? To be a photo journalist of some sort? He was the only one there who was doing that. Did he think it would be fine? Nothing would happen? He would get to stay in the side lines, completely unaffected, completely safe from harm? That hadn't happened. Stupid him. Never thought of the big picture.

He had met Adam, though. That would always be the most important part. He had nearly been killed, but Adam had been there, and Adam was here now, so all in all it couldn't be that bad. It had a net total of good. It didn't feel good.

He felt nauseous again, but not as if he was going to throw up. Like his insides were dying. Eating themselves up, maybe, because they didn't have anything else.

"Adam?"

"What?"

"Stay with me."

"Of course." Uh huh. Perfect.

-

"Marissa?"

"Yes, come in."

He did. Shut the door behind him, and the small chimes attached to it made a light musical tinkling noise. Cute. Walked in, sat down.

"Hi there." Smile, as always. "How's your week been?"

Well.

-

Marissa told him the same thing as Adam, but with a much nicer tone. Told him to eat more, and eat regularly, and eat healthily. He did none of those. And drink more water, of course. Told him to relax, but she had told him that so many times it wasn't anything close to new.

Told him to be nicer to himself. Said he was too harsh, too critical, and a small amount of that was fine but when it got to be too much it was unhealthy. Of course. He should, though.

Said something interesting. What do you say to yourself? And would you say the same thing to Adam?

No. Not even close, never, not once, wouldn't even dream of it. True. He almost cried thinking about it, and he wasn't sure why.

Later he told Adam he was beautiful. Adam smiled at him and said that he was too, and instead of internally denying it like he usually did he just accepted it. Sure, maybe he was. After all, Adam certainly thought so. He was good enough to marry.

Adam did take a bit of work off. A couple of days. He already had, because he had been sick, but he was still sick. Migraines, the nurse had said, could last a couple of days - they usually didn't, but they could. Great.

Nice to him. Adam loved him, he really did. Fed him, even though he said he wasn't going to. And made him drink water, but he added flavoring a few times, so it wasn't too bad. Was by his side constantly. He didn't even need to. He could be left alone. Nope.

"Is this the whole in sickness and in health thing coming in to play?" he asked him. Adam laughed.

"Yep."

"I feel like I'm always in sickness."

"So? More chances for me to practice my vows. I say it's good."

He always looked on the bright side. Depressed? Couldn't be.

He must have been, though. Somehow he noticed it. The subtle things. He definitely was tired more, and he curled up in bed next to him earlier than he should, much earlier, and looked drained. Eyes were hazy. Just stared at him. He asked what was wrong, he said he was tired, but that was more than tired. He lied his head down on his pillow and didn't move. Maybe he couldn't.

"Can you tell me a story?" Adam asked him. Different. Usually it was the other way around. He would have to make something up. He was sick, but he would try.

"About what?"

"The brave knights Sir Rick and Sir Adam."

Of course.

"Okay. Once upon a time there were these brave knights." Always start with the introduction, even though both of them knew the background story. "They were Sir Adam, the handsome one, and Sir Rick, the one who always hung around by him for some reason."

"Who was also handsome."

"Sure. One day they were sick. Well, Sir Rick was sick, at least. So he was confined to bed. And Sir Adam joined him, 'cause he was super nice and a beautiful knight husband."

"Do you know Sir Adam personally?"

"You could say I do. Anyway. There they were, in bed, and Sir Rick coughed on Sir Adam, and Sir Adam was overjoyed 'cause that meant he could practice his vows."

Adam snorted.

"He said, 'Ah, 'tis a wondrous day indeed, because I, Sir Adam, can proclaim my undying love again.'"

"Was his voice really that squeaky?"

"Absolutely. So Sir Rick said, 'Yes, my dear knight husband, I would simply love to hear you speak of our marriage.' And Sir Adam said, 'On April the thirtieth, uh 1592, you and I were married, and how splendid it was. One of the things I vowed to do every single day of my life was to care for you when you were sick or healthy. And now, alas, you have coughed. So I must care for you. Yay!' And Sir Rick was like, 'Yay!'"

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word 'alas.'"

"No, I don't. What does it mean."

"It means like 'however' or 'Oh, darn it.'"

"Boring."

"Your story is boring."

"Sorry, you asked for it."

"I did, that's true."

"You're boring." He rolled over.

"I guess your vows don't apply to you, huh?"

"Where does it say I can't tell you you're boring?"

"Right under where it says you need to tell me good stories."

"That was a good story."

"Yeah, and the president invited me to her birthday party."

"She did? Lucky you."

"You're not invited."

"Aw."

They were quiet. Although it wasn't too late, it was late enough, and both of them were tired from that week. That long week.

"Did you tell Marissa?"

"About what?"

"You."

"Like me being sick?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I did."

"What did she say?"

"Same thing as you."

"Ah." He was looking at him. "It's gonna be fall soon."

Already. Wasn't it just their anniversary? May? The beginning of summer? Their birthdays? Time.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it."

"And then Christmas."

What he would give to have a mind like Adam's. It went from nothing to Christmas just like that.

"Not yet."

"I didn't say it was soon. Just after fall."

"It's not for months."

"You need to start buying me presents now."

He was joking with him. Couldn't recognize it immediately. He wasn't in the mood.

"Maybe I won't."

"Aw. What did I do to you?"

"Everything."

"Are you still feeling bad?"

He was.

"Maybe I'll take you out later. We can go on a date. Remember when we went to that restaurant?"

It was their first date. The winter before last, when it had been extra freezing. They had gone to a fancy Italian restaurant and ended up not ordering anything fancy at all, mostly because they couldn't pronounce the names of the dishes. He had been nervous, and he still didn't know why.

"Let's not go to that one again."

"Okay, okay. But there are other nice places."

"Does it have to be nice?"

"Yes. Enough of going to Applebee's."

"I like Applebee's."

"We have too much of it. Pretty soon we'll end up have eating the whole menu."

"That would be cool. Maybe then they would give us a discount."

"No. Somewhere nice."

"Okay." No use arguing. The good part of that would be that Adam would have to wear a suit, and he would get to see him in it.

He could wear the cologne he had received for his birthday. Yeah, this could be okay.

-

Adam woke him up with a kiss on the lips. "Wake up."

He was awake now. Dang. What was he, Sleeping Beauty?

"Give me another kiss."

"No. Up."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't want you to stay in bed all day. Come on, make yourself useful."

He hated when he did this. Part of the reason Adam had gone on the ship was that he could get used to waking up and doing activities early. He couldn't.

"I just woke up."

"So? Some people have been awake since four-thirty."

"Well, good for them." He sat up. "What are they, farmers?"

"Maybe, but they're still more productive than you. Awaken."

"You are annoying." He yawned. What time was it? He glanced over at the clock. Nine-thirty. Oh, Adam.

"What have you done this morning, if you're so productive?"

"Made you coffee." He reached over to the nightstand next to him and grabbed a mug of coffee. Handed it to him. It was still hot, with a bit of white steam rising from it. "Drink."

"Okay, master." He did so. Yes, hot.

-

He was feeling better, he had noticed. Not so dead anymore. More refreshed. That was always good. The migraine had been the first thing to go away.

Maybe it was because Adam was making him eat more. Probably. What would he do when he went back to work? Hopefully not go back to where he was.

He sighed. He really couldn't take care of himself. When he had lived alone, before Adam, he had barely eaten then, too. He went shopping for groceries about once every two weeks, and hid it all in a small fridge he had had or a cabinet that was close to overflowing. Some of it went bad, and it would probably be more had he not bought so little in the first place.

He had hated living alone, and now that he had Adam it felt even worse to reflect on it. Gave him a cold feeling in his stomach. Tight, too. Like it was one of his nightmares, only this one had been real. Living alone was hell. Good thing he didn't have it anymore. That was one of the only good things. Strange how most of them applied to Adam, or were directly or indirectly affected by him.

No, not strange at all.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Adam got out his guitar again. He had been playing it more recently, which was more than fine by him. Anything that got Adam to be creative was good, great, amazing. It must have made him happy, happier than a clam in whatever environment clams were comfortable in, and thus it made him happier too. Funny how they could be connected in that way.

He hummed to himself, as he tended to do whenever he was lost in his thoughts. He was sitting in the same spot he always sat in when he played his guitar, that spot at the edge of the couch, where he could sit wherever was near him and listen to him. It was comforting, and everything felt nice for that moment.

Marissa had told him a bit about depression, because he didn’t really understand it, or the symptoms of it. Adam did seem to have it. Tiredness, yes, and lying around, and being sad occasionally, and a change of appetite - yep, he had seen all of those from time to time. Marissa had said also that his interests might change, or would decline, if they hadn’t already. He hadn’t really noticed that, but what was there to notice? He didn’t go to work with him, so he couldn’t tell if his interest in marine biology were any less. He hadn’t said much about the book he had gotten him for his birthday… But he had been engrossed in the owl book. So maybe not.

And if anything, he seemed more interested in his guitar than ever. He certainly was getting it out and playing it more than usual - a couple of months ago he had left it in the closet to get all dusty and un usable. And now he had gotten it out for himself. Progress. Maybe.

He was playing it now. Soft, melodic. Something that sounded vaguely like something he had heard before. What was it? Maybe it had played on the radio once, on low volume so that he could ignore it, or on moderate volume so that he could quickly change the station. Or maybe it was something that he had played before. Hm.

“What is that?” he asked him casually. Adam glanced up at him.

“That I’m playing?”

“Yes, silly.” Now that he really looked at him, he seemed tired. There were the faintest signs of dark circles under his eyes, and his posture was atrocious. Would have made Marissa cry - she was always on about him maintaining a good posture, because his was never perfect and apparently it would make him feel better. He hadn’t remembered it enough to give it a shot.

“Remember our honeymoon?” Of course he did. He must be really tired.

“Yeah.”

“Remember the beach?”

Ah, the beach. That one perfect, idyllic beach. The one he had vigorously tried to keep quiet about to Marissa. “I do.”

“The one we walked on?”

“Get to the point.”

“I am getting to the point. Remember when we were walking on it, and I was singing a song, and then -”

“Yes, I get it.”

“This is the song.” He looked back down at his guitar and lightly strummed it again, and said no more.

It did sound like the song he had been singing, oddly enough. Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but he could somehow recognize the notes and melodies, even though he had heard them for such a brief time over a year before. He could almost remember in his head Adam’s voice; it had been so much lighter at that time. Less heavy, less burdened. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before, at least.

Yes, that was it. The song. How had the words gone, again? He couldn’t remember that.

He gazed at Adam, and after a moment he looked back at him.

“What?” Sounded a tad aggressive. Or was that his imagination?

“Can you sing it for me?”

“Can I what?”

“The words. To that song. Do you still remember them?”

“Of course I do.” Definitely more harsh than usual. He was never harsh with him, not even a little, unless he had done something positively annoying or even abominable. What was up?

“So can you?”

“Why do you want me to?”

He was being confusing tonight. “I don’t know. I like it.”

“You like the song?” He shifted, uncrossing one of his legs and crossing the other one, positioning the guitar so that it was comfortable. Moved his hands and fingers around aimlessly, but didn’t play a chord. Quiet.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess about a lot of stuff.”

“Fine. I’m sure about it.”

“That’s funny, because I seem to remember you thought it was the worst, most irritating song on Earth when I sang it for you before.”

Gosh, he was annoying. He did get in moods like this sometimes, but they were usually caused by the stress of work and weren’t ever directed at him, and certainly never about sarcastic jokes he had once made.

“That was before. How many months ago was that?”

“Several.” He wasn’t looking at him anymore. Directing his attention at his guitar, and only at his guitar. Didn’t seem to care about holding a conversation with him, either.

“So maybe I’ve changed.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t make fun of it again if I do play it for you.” Definitely aggressive. Almost as if he wanted him to issue a formal apology for making jokes about it.

He hadn’t cared, though, on the beach. He had treated it as a joke as well, and definitely not taken it seriously or personally. Had he swapped his sense of humor with someone who had none? And why this song? Why this in general? He made fun of everything, and Adam never minded.

“I won’t. I promise. Anyway, I never make fun of anything if it’s serious.”

“What if it was serious before?”

“You didn’t make it sound serious.” Were they fighting? Seriously fighting? Over nothing? Man, they _were_ married.

“Ugh.” He set his guitar down on the floor - no, set was too light a word. Dropped it. Didn’t throw it, but let it fall to the ground. “Just forget it. Just freaking forget it.”

He stared at him. Adam?

“Why do you have to make everything a mess?”

Adam?

“Hey, what’s up?” Started to get up; Adam shook his head violently, so he sat back down again.

“Never mind.” Wasn’t looking at anywhere close to his general vicinity. Off into the distance, probably in the void of his mind. Or at nothing. Probably nothing.

He got up. Left his guitar stranded, lying on the floor, abandoned. He would have to pick it up after him, but he couldn’t do that, because Adam never liked anyone but him touching his guitar. No, not even him. Maybe it was to do with fingerprints. Maybe he was just bizarre like that.

Adam was pretty bizarre indeed. And where had he gone? Back to their room, maybe. He would leave him there. Better to leave him sulking than to get yelled at for not.

He got up again, this time freely. Walked over to where Adam had been sitting. His guitar looked so lonely. It was just an acoustic one, one he had gotten for his birthday a long, long time ago, before he knew him. From a family member, he had mentioned once. He wished he could remember who.

It was polished. Fingerprints was probably a good motive for Adam not wanting anyone to touch it; the thing was spotless, immaculate, polished to the end of time. He could almost see his reflection in it, and definitely could if he came closer. He didn’t, though. Just stood there, wondering.

Why had Adam gotten so mad? So many questions, a different one every day, all related to him and his various strange behaviors. Maybe he would never come to understand him. Maybe he would go through the rest of his days, happily married to Adam, and he would never have an inkling of knowledge as to what went through his brain every day. Was it stressful? Maybe, probably, definitely. Was it wonderful? Sometimes, he supposed, because there had been many times where he had been happy. Was it some strange land of nonsense and disconnect that he could not begin to understand? Absolutely.

Maybe he should talk to him. He should definitely talk to him, try to ease him out of whatever it was that was bugging him. But what would he say? It was his fault, whatever it was that had hurt him, and would talking to him only make it more severe? It could happen.

Darn it. It was always his fault; Adam had said many times that it wasn’t his fault, not at all, but it always turned out to be in the end. _Don’t think about it,_ he had said. _It can’t be your fault, and if it’s your fault then you’ll know for sure._

But he didn’t know for sure. He didn’t know at all. Did that mean it was, in fact, not his fault? Maybe.

Maybe he should tone down the sarcasm. Yes. Probably. If it made Adam feel better, there was no question about it.

-

He crept into their room, silently, about ten minutes later when he mustered up the strength to go back there. Adam was there, yep, sleeping, or was he? Lying down. He tended to do that a lot, but not nearly as much as him.

Got closer to the bed. His eyes were closed, but that didn’t mean he was sleeping. He was curled up, almost as if he wanted to scrunch himself into nonexistence.

“Adam?” Softly. Adam hummed quietly and shifted a bit; nope, not sleeping. He wouldn’t make a peep if weren’t conscious and aware of his surroundings.

“You okay?” He doubted he was. Adam didn’t offer a response to that.

He joined him in bed. Just sort of hopped on, but didn’t make a scuffle or barely a sound. Adam didn’t say anything, of course. He looked at him, but he didn’t look back.

“Look,” he began. “I know - I know whatever it is you’re going through sucks. I can get that, totally. You know how I am. But I would really like to… at least, I guess, understand what you’re thinking. You don’t tell me that enough, and I know like I sound like I’m blaming you -” Crap, Marissa had told him not to do that. “- but it’s something I do feel, and I’d like to help you. As much as I can. You’ve helped me before, definitely, so I’d just like to… return the favor. All right?”

Adam hummed again. Clearly he had heard him. So why not offer a response? Hm.

“Okay. You’re not gonna talk, so I will. You know our wedding vows applied to me too, right? I vowed to take care of you in sickness and in health, too. I said I would be here, with you, even if you feel like the end of the world is happening in your brain. I get that, and it’s the worst feeling ever, but that’s the thing. I get it. I may not know exactly what it is that you’re going through, but I have gone through something crappy too, so I can relate. And you do not have to be alone.”

He had always been that type of person. Kept to himself. Maybe now he was finally noticing it.

“Maybe you and me can cry together at two AM, I don’t care. That would be fun, actually. We can bring out the ice cream and make it a party. Or we can watch some old movies that got, like, a twentieth of its budget back in the box office, and we can make fun of those until we pass out. Whatever. But we don’t have to hide it away. We especially don’t have to hide it from each other.”

Adam was listening now, really listening, he could tell. Still didn’t have his eyes open, still hadn’t removed his face from his pillow, but he was stiller than he had been. Calmer, hopefully. Maybe his words were relaxing him.

“Look. You know how many friends I have? Besides you? Zero. Not a freaking soul. I’m friendless. Heck, the only people I really talk to on a regular basis are you, Marissa, and my mom once in a while. That’s three people, and they all care for me. Do you know how many people I care for? You. Or at least I try to. You’re really -”

Had to stop for a moment. Getting ahead of himself. Adam really could make him emotional at times - oh, whatever. All the time.

“You’re really the only person I’ve got. If you were… if you weren’t even here, if I hadn’t gone on that stupid ship and ran into you, maybe neither of us would be here. I definitely would have a crappy life. I’d be alone. So if I can’t even talk to you when you’re feeling bad, then… it’s similar to living by myself in a two room apartment that your mom helps pay for.”

Quiet again, before Adam finally spoke.

“Your mom paid for it?”

“Not all of it. I got money off pictures.” Ah, those had been the days. Back when his photography used to mean something to others. Besides Adam, of course.

“How many did you sell?” His voice was soft, and he couldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his ears having long since trained themselves to hear his voice at those levels.

“A couple.” Four. Two of them had been for the same person. None of them, shockingly, had been for his parents, although they had asked for their own at separate times. Free, always free, he couldn’t bear to charge his mom.

“Which ones?”

Maybe he had seen them. He would remember, he remembered a ton of his pictures. Sometimes even more than he did. What were they?

“Landscape.” Stupid response. Of course Adam knew that. It was like saying that they had been taken by him personally. Really, you took landscape pictures? You’re a photographer? You’re pulling my leg, man.

“Well, yeah.”

He had gone back to a forest. It had been similar to the one he had gone to as a teenager, but a bit smaller and more woodsy. Less likely to get lost and be eaten by a group of ravenous bears there. It had been sunnier, too, or maybe he was making that up.

“Nature. Lots of trees.”

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve never taken pictures of that before.”

He leaned over and ruffled his hair. Soft. “I’m messing with you.”

“I can tell.”

“Wake up. Where do you want to go for our second anniversary?”

“It’s not even close to that yet.”

“It’s never too early to plan ahead.”

“Let’s go somewhere cool.” He had his eyes open now; when had that happened? He hadn’t noticed. “Like the Grand Canyon.”

“All right. You can go there, and I’ll work for decades to pay for it.”

“It’s not that expensive.”

“If we lived in Arizona, maybe it wouldn’t be. But we live in Minnesota.”

“I know that. Planes exist. Or we could drive.”

“Drive?” They didn’t have a good enough car for that. The one they had took them places, certainly, but never more than a hundred miles at most. It would never take them the couple thousand that they would need to go.

“We could. Think about it. Rent a car, go on a road trip, stay in cheap motels, get free breakfast. Make it there in a couple of days.”

“No way.”

“Okay, maybe a week. But wouldn’t it be fun?”

It did sound tempting. He didn’t say anything, though. Didn’t want to get Adam’s hopes up, or his own hopes up. Too big for that moment.

It could work, though. It could work. And it would be a treat for the both of them. No responsibilities, lots of travel, just the two of them, cheap motels with cheap beds… Nice. They could get away with it, yeah.

“Sure.”

“Cool.” Nothing more. Closed his eyes again, snuggled down. Looked warm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For marrying me.”

He smiled. He had to. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the end! When I originally wrote this, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue it or not, but when I arrived at the ending, it just felt like the right place to finish the work as a whole.   
> Anyway, I'd like to thank whomever read this, as well as...my mom, my dad, my brother, my friends at school, my friends online, Evan (even though he doesn't like to read and will never see this), that one person who comments on a chapter every so often, the girl in my creative writing class who said I was a good writer, Adam Young for inspiring this in more ways than one, my anxiety and depression (always with me through thick and thin), the Beatles for being my favorite band, Brielle (even though you weren't in this one), and of course my dear Adam and Rick, whom I cannot let go of even if I tried.


End file.
